


All That Might Be: Choices

by Penthesilea1623



Series: All That Might Be [3]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Blood and Injury, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, True Love, Unresolved sexual tension that's eventually resolved, Weddings, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:23:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 250,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penthesilea1623/pseuds/Penthesilea1623
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Vael thinks he’s finally reached a decision about the path his future will take, but the growing turmoil in Kirkwall threatens to harm someone he cares about and may require him to make a different choice. </p><p>Now that Meredith has taken charge of the city, Anabel Hawke, the newly named Champion of Kirkwall, is finding herself under increasing pressure to choose a side: mages or templars. </p><p>The near fatal duel with the Arishok has only increased Sebastian’s and Anabel’s feelings for each other, but events in Kirkwall may force them to choose between what they want, and what is needed to protect the city and those they love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Still In One Piece

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to play with the timeline of Choices more than the other two parts, and it will be slightly more AU as well. Sebastian and Anabel will finally consummate their relationship, I promise, though not in the first few chapters. Tags will be updated as the story progresses. 
> 
> All characters, and most of the plot and settings, and occasional bits of dialogue belong, of course, to Bioware, and I thank them for letting me take them out and play with them.

>   
> _And His Word became all that might be:_  
>  _Dream and idea, hope and fear,_  
>  _Endless possibilities._  
>  __
> 
> #####  _Threnodies 5:1
> 
> ##### 
> 
> _
>
>> Winter arrived in full force, colder than most in Kirkwall remembered seeing in their lifetimes. The first snowfall of the year came two days after the Viscount’s funeral, leaving a covering of several inches. 

The ground wouldn’t be entirely free of snow for another four months. The warnings of harsh winter proved to be all too true. 

For more than a week after her fever had broken Anabel did little but sleep. 

“Is this normal?” Sebastian whispered to Anders over Hawke’s sleeping form. She’d been awake when Anders had arrived, and for the first time in days had expressed an interest in eating something. Sebastian had gone quickly downstairs to let Orana know, and by the time he’d returned she’d been sound asleep again.

Anders, who had been smoothing the covers around her, glanced up at her face. The bruises were finally fading. One small hand was curled up by her cheek, and she seemed as peaceful as a child. He couldn’t help smiling, seeing her like that. They’d come so close to losing her. He didn’t think any of the others realized quite how close. That they hadn’t almost restored his faith in that deity Sebastian was so fond of. “She’s finally resting.” He said softly, not wanting to wake her. “Even before she was injured she hadn’t been taking care of herself, hadn’t been eating or sleeping the way she should have. Fighting that infection took what few reserves she did have. Sleep is the best thing for her right now. It’s her body’s way of forcing her to recuperate.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this still.” Sebastian commented, not taking his eyes from her. “It seems so strange.”

“That alone tells me how much she needs it. We’ll know she’s truly recovering when that changes. And then the struggle will be to try and keep her still.” 

 

 

Almost every time Anabel woke up for the first few weeks after the duel, Sebastian would be there. She came to expect it. It was more than two weeks before she thought to question him about it.

“Didn’t you used to have a job before all of this?” She asked him when she opened her eyes and again found him sitting in the armchair beside her bed, reading, Boy lying at his feet.

Sebastian looked up at her with a smile, closed the book and put it on the night table. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on edge of the bed and looked down at her.

Every time he saw her eyes open he gave thanks to the Maker and his Bride. He had thought he would lose her that night, but he hadn’t. She had survived.

The day after her fever had broken, he’d gone back to the Chantry, and bathed and slept, and, yes, prayed as well, and had been back at her bedside when she’d awoken. She’d opened her eyes, seen him there and smiled, and at the sight of that smile, all the turmoil, all the confusion and indecision about his vows, about Starkhaven, and about Anabel herself had instantly receded.

Against all the odds she was alive. That was what was mattered. That was all that mattered. Anabel Hawke was alive, and every time since then when he saw her wake, every time those blue green eyes opened and her lips curved into a contented smile at the sight of him he thought the same thing. The only important thing was that she was here, with him. “I have a new job.” He informed her. “Taking care of you.” 

“That sounds like a thankless task.” She said, not lifting her head from her pillow, utterly content to just gaze at him.

“On the contrary.” He said with a smile. “I can’t think of one more important.” He took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to it, keeping it clasped in his own. “How are you feeling?”

She curled her fingers around his hand and gave him a sleepy smile. “I’m fine.”

It was what she always answered, regardless of whether or not it was true. “I begin to understand why Anders grows so frustrated with you.” He commented with a wry smile.

“Truly, I’m fine. Still tired and feeble and useless, but fine.” 

“Never useless.” He said stroking her hair back from her face. “Are you hungry?” 

“Orana brought me some porridge this morning.” She assured him.

He noticed she didn’t say she’d eaten it. Her appetite still hadn’t returned and she wasn’t eating the way she should. “It’s past midday. If I had some soup brought up would you have some?”

She didn’t feel like eating, but it was impossible to say no to him. “All right. Can you get the pillows for me?” He helped her sit up and piled the pillows behind her so she was supported before he went to ask Orana to bring up some soup.

She watched him as he crossed back to the bed. “Isn’t Elthina missing you?” 

“Sister Alma is taking care of things until you’re well again.” It had been Elthina’s suggestion. 

“I don’t think I know her.” Said Hawke, trying to remember.

“I don’t think you’ve met." He had no qualms about the decision. Sister Alma was intelligent and efficient and though serious, not without a sense of humor. She was more than capable of doing the job. She would serve Elthina well.

“I’m sorry.” She said, leaning her head back against the pillows. 

“For what?” he asked, moving to sit on the bed beside her.

“Disrupting your life in such a spectacular manner.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “You have done that, even before nearly sacrificing yourself to the Qunari. I’m rather glad you did, though.” He couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. 

She gave him just a glimpse of her dimple. “You even sound as if you mean that.” She teased. “I’m glad I did too.” She agreed, reaching out and sliding her hand into his, twining their fingers together. “I can’t imagine my life without you.” She confessed. 

The words echoed his thoughts so exactly that he couldn’t help leaning forward and kissing her forehead. “Nor can I.” He said softly, pulling back and stroking her cheek. “You’re such a part of me now. If I had lost you….” 

“You didn’t.” She reminded him. “You ordered me to stay with you so I did.”

He couldn’t help smiling at the memory. "I wasn’t certain you'd remember that.” 

Her expression was solemn. “I wanted to give up. You wouldn’t let me.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“And now you’re stuck with me.” She pointed out, and the corner of her mouth curved into a teasing smile, flashing her dimple again.

“Yes to my very great pleasure.” He agreed. He leaned forward kissed her dimple, and unable to resist, he turned his head slightly and just brushed his lips against hers, a feather light touch, before quickly pulling back again. “The important thing now is to get you well again. Yes?” He asked.

“Yes.” She agreed happily. _Oh yes_. She wanted to get well. She could still feel the faint touch of his lips on hers. She wanted much more of that. She looked over with a smile as Orana came in carrying a tray. For the first time in days she actually felt hungry.

 

 

The first time Anabel came downstairs by herself, she was trembling with exhaustion by the time she got to the bottom of the steps and she had had to pause there for a moment. 

“There’s no shame in being carried, Anabel.” Sebastian pointed out.

“No.” She said stubbornly. “I want to do this myself.”

Sebastian looked to Anders to see if he thought it wise that they continue to let her try. Anders gave him a small nod in the affirmative, but Sebastian noticed he moved closer to Anabel, ready to offer assistance should she need it. 

She stood there for a moment, hating how shaky she felt. It was ridiculous. All she’d done was walk down the stairs, and even that had been one step at a time, like a toddler learning how to walk. She took a step away from the bannister. The door to the library seemed ridiculously far away. “Fuck.” She muttered under her breath. If she couldn’t do this on her own they’d probably banish her upstairs again, insisting she was too frail to be up and about.

Anders was watching her, seeing every emotion cross her face. Andraste’s Ass, she was stubborn. Even now, after all she’d been through. she stood there refusing to admit she couldn’t make it on her own. He took a step forward intending to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way, whether she liked it or not, but before he could, Sebastian had stepped forward, offering her his arm. 

“Might I escort you the rest of the way Serah Hawke?” 

His tone was so ridiculously formal that she couldn’t help but smile, in spite of her exhaustion. “Offering assistance, rescuing me from my own stubbornness and letting me save face all at the same time? You are good. Anders would have just picked me up and hauled me off to the library, wouldn’t you?” 

“I was about to.” Anders admitted. “I’m not nearly as concerned with your saving face. I am concerned that you not fall flat on it, but since Sebastian has saved you that indignity, I'll just go and get the sofa ready.” He said dryly, walking towards the library. Say what you would about the prat, Sebastian knew how to handle Hawke better than any of them, and after the last few weeks Anders couldn’t deny the man’s complete and utter devotion to her. He even had to admit to a certain grudging respect for the Prince. He still didn’t trust him, still hated what now seemed like the inevitability of his and Hawke’s relationship, but Hawke may have been right. Sebastian might be one of the good ones. Maker, he hated admitting that.

Hawke slipped her arm into the crook of Sebastian’s elbow and they walked slowly towards the library. Halfway there, seeing her begin to falter, Sebastian slipped a supportive arm around her waist. She leaned against him gratefully.

The newly delivered couch had been piled with blankets and pillows and Anders and Sebastian quickly got her settled on it. 

Hawke leaned her head back on the pillows and looked at them. “I didn’t think it would be this difficult.” She confessed. “How pathetic am I?” 

“You’re only just beginning to recover from serious injuries.” Sebastian said soothingly, though in truth he was alarmed at her weakened state. “It will get easier. We’ll just take it slowly.”

“It’s annoying. I’m not used to being still.” But she seemed quite content to just lie there for now. 

“Listen to your body, Hawke.” Anders told her. “I’m willing to let you come down here for a few hours a day, but you pull just one of your stunts, you’ll be back upstairs in your bed before Sebastian can utter one his endless prayers for your safety.” 

Hawke glanced over at Sebastian, to see how he had taken that remark, but to her surprise he had an easy smile on his face.

She turned back to Anders. “I’m far too tired for stunts.” She insisted. “I mean, look at me.”

Anders looked entirely unconvinced. “I’ve a feeling that’s going to change shortly.” Maker help them when it did. “I’ve got to get back to the clinic.” He announced. He looked over at Sebastian. “No more than an hour or two and then I want her back upstairs and resting. Don’t let her sweet talk you into staying down here.” He’d fastened his coat as he spoke, and was winding a scarf around his neck.

Anabel watched him with a puzzled look on her face. He was just going down through the basement to the clinic. Why was he bundling up as if he were going outside? 

Unless it was that cold in the clinic.

“Is it still snowing?” She asked with a frown. From what they’d told her it had done nothing but snow since the Qunari had left. 

“It is, and the temperature’s dropped again.” Said Anders pulling on some fingerless gloves.

Her frown deepened. It must be freezing in the Undercity. It must be freezing in the clinic. “You have to need more supplies; you were almost out even before all this happened.” She hadn’t even thought about that. She’d been too busy just lying around being feeble. _Damn it_. “You should have said something.” She told him. She began to worry her lower lip, considering what could be done. “Is Bodahn around?” She asked. “We must have some of the things you need here, he would know. And if you make up a list I can make sure you get the rest. It’s still early enough that we could even get them today, if we hurried.” She pushed back the covers, and swung her feet to the floor. “You'll help carry them down, won’t you?” She asking, turning to Sebastian.

He had a pleased smile on his face that she didn’t understand. Before she could question him about it Anders was there, lifting her legs by the feet, and putting them firmly back on the couch before pulling the blanket over her again, but he didn’t seem angry. In fact, he had an identical smile to Sebastian’s on his face. 

“Why are you both smiling like that?” She asked, looking from one to the other.

“I know you’re feeling better if you’re beginning to worry about everyone else.” Said Anders. It was the surest sign yet that she was recovering. “The clinic is fine.” He told her. “Brother Sebastian here made sure we have all the supplies we need.”

She turned to Sebastian for an explanation.

“The Chantry allocates funds for such works of charity. I simply ensured that the funds went where they were most needed and that the supplies were safely delivered.”

“It’s kept the clinic running.” Said Anders. He hesitated before adding, “Thank you.” If it sounded a bit forced, it also sounded sincere.

Sebastian knew how difficult it must have been for him to say. “You do the Maker’s work in your clinic, Anders. It seems only fair that you have some of the Maker’s funds as well.” There was a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke, and Anders couldn’t help the laugh that burst out.

Hawke looked from one to the other with small smile on her lips. It was almost disconcerting seeing them getting along so well.

And all she’d had to do to make it happen was nearly die.

 

 

The weather continued to get worse. With the temperatures so bitterly cold, her friends refused to let her venture outside until there was no risk to her health.

Several weeks passed and the rumors began to grow. 

The Champion was killed and Meredith is keeping the news from the populace to prevent rioting in the streets. 

The Champion was horribly mutilated during her battle with the Arishok and won’t let herself be seen in public. 

The Champion had suffered a head injury and was no better than a Tranquil. She lies in her bed staring at the ceiling, repeating over and over again the only two words she remembers: ‘Kirkwall’ and ‘Arishok’.

Varric in particular found that one hilarious. 

“Like those would be the two words I’d remember.” She scoffed when Varric told her.

“True. It would be much more likely to be ‘whiskey’ and ‘raspberry tart’.” Varric agreed. 

“Raspberry tart is two words.” Her eyes were fixed on Sebastian, who stood across the room by one of the bookcases, talking with Fenris. As if he felt her gaze, he looked over at her and gave her a smile so warm that her breath caught for a moment.

“I suppose one of them could just as easily be ‘Choir boy’.” Varric suggested innocently having watched the exchange. 

“Choir boy’s two words as well.” She said absently, smiling as Sebastian walked across the room and joined them. 

“Varric.” He said, before leaning down and lightly kissing top of Hawke’s head. She looked up at him, reaching up to twine her fingers through his. His hand tightened around hers, and he brushed a stray curl from her cheek. They couldn’t seem to keep their eyes from each other.

Varric looked back and forth between the two. He might as well have been on the moon for all the notice they took of him. They weren’t even trying to hide their feelings anymore, not that they’d ever been terribly successful at it anyway. He couldn’t help smiling.

 _Well, what do you know_ , he thought. Maybe Hawke and Choir Boy would get that happy ending after all. 

 

 

Two months after the duel, Sebastian walked into the library and found Anabel curled up on the sofa, her feet tucked up under the skirt of her dress, reading, one hand idling playing with the locket around her neck. Boy was stretched out on the hearth in front of her. 

He watched her, unobserved for a moment. Her hair was tied back with a ribbon – red, to match the soft wool dress she wore. She was still far too thin, but her color was back and she had lost that frail exhausted look that had worried them all. She looked beautiful. 

The mabari noticed him before she did, and with a soft “woof”, rose to his feet and padded over to greet him. “Hello, Boy.” He said scratching behind the hound’s ears.

Hawke looked up from her book. “He greets you like family.” She commented, leaning her head back against the pillow. Unsurprising since Sebastian had been there every day since she’d been injured. 

“And I’m honored by it.” He walked over to where she sat and crouched down looking carefully at her. “How are you today?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Looking forward to the day that my friends stop greeting me by asking me that question.” She softened the statement with a gentle smile. “I’m fine, Sebastian. Stir-crazy, but fine.” 

He nodded approvingly. “Well, in that case I was wondering if you’d care to go for a walk.”

She blinked in surprise. “A walk.” She clarified. “Like a walk walk. Like a walk outside?”

He couldn't help smiling. “I believe that’s generally how they’re conducted. It’s warmer today, and the wind has died down. Some of the snow has melted. I thought perhaps we could walk to the Market.” 

She answered by flinging her arms around his neck and squealing with pleasure. The movement was so sudden it knocked him to the floor and she landed on top of him laughing and covering his face with kisses.

He was laughing as he stared up at her. “So that’s a ‘yes’ then.” He asked.

She nodded vigorously. “Yes. Yes, please.”

He tried to give her a stern look, no mean feat when he was sprawled on his back with her on top of him, smiling in delight. “You need to bundle up well, and let me know the moment you feel at all tired.” He cautioned.

“Of course.” She said, agreeing eagerly. She’d slid off him and was on her feet offering him a hand before he'd quite realized she'd moved and the moment he was on his feet she was running towards the door calling Orana’s name. His mouth curved in a smile. She was getting her speed back.

Halfway there she stopped suddenly, turned around and came running back going on tip toe to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you!” She said and turned and ran out of the room.

A short time later they stepped out of the mansion into the sunshine. Hawke stopped and looked around, breathing in the fresh air. Her face was framed by the fur lined hood of the grey coat she was wearing. It was an elegant garment, closely fitted, decorated with braided trim in a lighter grey, and with fur-trimmed sleeves that flared out from the elbow in the latest style. She looked every inch the proper Hightown lady.

She flashed him a brilliant smile. “I can’t tell you how wonderful it feels to be outside.” The wind gusted suddenly and she shivered a little.

He stepped closer, shielding her from the wind. “Are you sure you’re warm enough?”

“I’m fine. Orana bundled me up with extra petticoats and wool stockings, and all manner of things.” She said looking up at him with laughing eyes. “There’s been too much sitting in front of fireplaces in soft armchairs is all. I need to toughen up.” Her cheeks were already pink from the cold.

He reached down and pulled her hood more securely around her face. “We’ll take it slowly, all right?” He tucked her gloved hand firmly in the crook of his elbow and they leisurely made their way through Hightown, Sebastian keeping a watchful eye for any signs that she was tiring. 

She glanced at the Templars stationed on the steps of the Keep and scowled. “I can’t believe Meredith had the nerve to move Templars into the Keep like that.” She’d been furious when she’d heard the story. Unsurprised, but furious nonetheless.

Sebastian looked over at them. “Yes, well the Knight Commander has never suffered from a shortage of audacity.” 

“What does Elthina say about it?”

“That it’s a political matter and not the Chantry’s concern.” He understood Elthina’s intention. She wanted the Chantry neutral, so that all felt free to come to her for assistance. He found himself having trouble reconciling it with the reality of the situation. Perhaps he was more politician than priest after all.

Anabel frowned and opened her mouth to point out that the Chantry was at least nominally under the control of the Templars, and hardly removed from politics anyway, but she was interrupted before she could speak.

“Champion!” Someone called out. It took Anabel a moment to realize they were talking to her. She turned to see Guillaume de Launcet approaching.

He had a broad smile on his face. “It’s so good to see you out and about. You are better, yes? The whole city has been praying for your recovery. We owe you a great debt.” 

Hawke seemed bewildered by the praise, but smiled all the same. “Kirkwall is my home. What else would I do?” 

“My wife is having a small gathering next week. She would never forgive me if I did not ask you to honor us with your presence. And you as well, of course, Your Highness.” He added, glancing at Sebastian before turning his attention back to Hawke.

Dulcie de Launcet wanted her at a dinner party? That seemed highly unlikely. “I’m afraid I’m not yet accepting invitations, but please thank the Comtesse.” After a few more exchanged pleasantries the Comte took his leave.

“Weird.” She muttered as he walked away. 

They continued making their way towards the market, and the scene repeated itself several times. 

“All right this is just strange.” She murmured to Sebastian after the fifth person had come rushing up to them. “Where are the disapproving looks? The snide comments about upstart Fereldan refugees?”

“You’re their champion, Ana. You saved the city. You should see how many people stop me on the street and in the Chantry to ask after you.” His heart swelled with pride for her. Finally Kirkwall was recognizing all she did for the city.

They made their way to the market and browsed the stalls. Anabel had never had so many people try to give her things for free but the only thing she accepted was a pink rose from Sam, grown in his hothouse, a rose identical to those Sebastian had given her so many months before.

“I’d like to name it after you, Serah.” Said Sam, as she tucked the rose into one of the buttonholes at the neck of her coat.

She arched an eyebrow. “You want to call a rose “Hawke”?” She asked.

“Not Hawke – Champion. The Champion’s rose.” 

She laughed then. “I’d be honored, Sam. Thank you.”

Sam’s kindly face grew serious. “No, Champion, thank you. You saved us all, and from what I’ve heard, nearly lost your own life doing it. Kirkwall will always be in your debt for that.”

Sebastian gave her an appraising look as they walked away from the stand. “Are you tired?” He asked. He hadn’t intended to keep her out this long, but he had vastly underestimated the number of Kirkwall citizens who would want to thank her.

She hesitated for a moment, but being bedridden for weeks had at least taught her some caution for her own wellbeing. “I am, a little.” She admitted.

“Come. Let’s go home.” He put a guiding hand around her waist, and she let herself lean against him as he carefully led her towards the stairs. Neither of them noticed the many eyes following them with approving smiles.

As they rounded the corner to the plaza in front of Hawke’s house, he felt her suddenly go stiff and straighten up. He looked down in concern to find she was looking past him. He turned to see what had caught her eye.

A Qunari stood quietly in the shadows across from her mansion. He made no move, and said nothing, just stood there, watching them. No, watching her. Sebastian tried to remain calm. Perhaps it was one of the Tal Vashoth, one of the many mercenaries one encountered all over Thedas. Not even the Qunari would be audacious enough to send someone back to Kirkwall so soon, would they? 

Anabel and the Qunari stared at each other for a few second before she slowly pulled her hand free from Sebastian’s arm and walked towards him, ignoring Sebastian’s hissed calling of her name. She stopped just in front of the giant. 

The Qunari looked down at her. “I am Taarbas.” He rumbled. “You are Hawke.” It was a statement, not a question, but he sounded uncertain. One could almost hear his thought – this tiny _bas_? This is who bested the Arishok?

She nodded, looking up at him. “Yes. I hadn’t thought there would be any Qunari still in Kirkwall.” 

His face was unreadable. “Many Qunari fell that day. I am sent to recover their swords.” 

“Sent?” So it wasn’t someone who had remained behind. It had been two months since the duel. This Taarbas must have been sent almost as soon as the others had arrived back in Par Vollen. She tried to remember what she knew about the custom. Their weapons held their souls, not their bodies. The bodies were just husks, unimportant, their blades anything but. “Of course.” She murmured. “Can I help in any way?” 

The Qunari looked at her more intently and then gave a slight nod, as if pleased by her response. “If you find any swords, bring them to me. I will be here.” He glanced up as Sebastian joined them. Noting the man’s protective attitude he stepped carefully back from Hawke.

Anabel put a reassuring hand on Sebastian’s chest and turned back to Taarbas. “I will. If you require any other aid please let me know. You know where you can find me.” She assumed he did since he had waited outside of her house.

He nodded. “You are _Basalit ‘an_. It is as the Arishok said.” 

“He was a worthy opponent.” She said simply. She slipped her arm through Sebastian’s and gently guided him away from the giant and back to her house.

They had barely made it inside the door when he turned on her. “Are you insane?” He asked, trying not to shout the words.

She seemed taken aback by the vehemence of his question. She tilted her head to one side as if considering. “Hmmm. I think the jury’s still out on that one.” She pushed back her hood and unfastened the buttons of her coat, shrugging out of it and tossing it carelessly on the bench in the entry. She turned towards the main room, but Sebastian caught her by the arm, stopping her.

“It’s not a joke, Anabel! You nearly died at the hands of the Qunari, you killed their leader and yet you walk right up to one of them, completely unarmed, without any idea of what his intentions might be.” In naught but a dress and woolen coat, still frail from her illness. She had never looked smaller and more helpless than she had standing next to the Qunari. 

“He wasn’t going to harm me.” She insisted. She seemed genuinely puzzled by his anger. 

“And you know that for certain?” He asked, his voice louder than he intended.

She frowned at him, perplexed by his reaction. “Yes. The Qun wouldn’t allow it. I dueled the Arishok and defeated him. I won. The matter is over.”

“Just like that?” She couldn’t possibly be so naïve, could she? 

“Well, yes. That’s how they are.” She looked at him more carefully. “You were scared.” She realized.

He threw his hands up in the air. “Bloody hell, Anabel, of course I was scared. It’s been scarce two months since I saw you nearly cut in half by one of those giants.” 

She couldn’t hide her smile as she came up to him. She took his large hands in hers and placed them gently but firmly on her waist. His hands automatically tightened around it.

“See. Still in one piece.” She gave him a reassuring smile. 

All the fight went out of him. He bent forward and rested his forehead against hers, willing his heart to stop pounding. “You’re going to be the death of me Anabel Hawke.”

He was only half joking. Her first trip outside after weeks of convalescence and she was going toe to toe with the Qunari. He moved his hand to her neck, tilting up her face, looking at her for a moment before he leaned down and kissed her, firmly, as if to confirm that she was there and unharmed. She moved into his embrace, slipping her arms around his neck and he kissed her again, a searching, gentle kiss this time. It was she who increased the pressure, who made it something more, pressing her slender form against him, tasting him, teasing and nipping.

He finally pulled his mouth away, looking down at her, breathing heavily. “What am I going to do with you?” He asked. Only a part of him was thinking about what had happened with the Qunari outside now. The other part could think of nothing but the feel of her lips and her tongue and her teeth, imagining all the other uses he could make of them. She grew more tempting each day, and it was wrong to be so tempted, to want her so badly when she was still so far from well, when he still could offer her nothing. The worries he had about his future, about their future, reared up and he carefully pushed them back. She wasn’t well yet. There would be plenty of time to concern himself with that when she was.

Anabel just snuggled closer to him, oblivious to his turmoil, just enjoying the feel of his arms around her. “You could take me to see Elthina tomorrow.” She suggested. Who knew how long this break in the weather would last? All too soon she’d be trapped inside again, all of her friends convinced she was such a delicate flower that she would wilt if exposed to a little cold.

“Do you think you could avoid a battle with any Templars we might pass on the way?” He asked, only half joking. She didn’t answer and he pulled his head back to look at her. She seemed to be giving the question serious thought. “Anabel?” he inquired.

“I’m thinking.” After a moment she shook her head regretfully. “I couldn’t guarantee it.” She looked up at him with a mischievous grin. “Are you willing to risk it, anyway?” 

He pulled her into his arms again, holding her close against him, stroking her hair. “For you Anabel Hawke, I would risk a great many things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Part III begins. 
> 
> After some internal debate, I moved the episode with Taarbas up to two months after the fight with the Arishok. I stared at the map of Thedas for a long time, and decided that if a trip in a small boat from Gwaren to Kirkwall could take two weeks (as Varric relates) then it was feasible to get from Kirkwall to Par Vollen and back to Kirkwall in two months.
> 
> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	2. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian takes Anabel to the Chantry to see Elthina and she manages to get into some mischief involving cookies and orphans and snowball fights. Upon their return to her house he discovers that she hasn't quite come to terms with the results of her battle with the Arishok.

Sebastian came by the next afternoon to take her to see Elthina as he’d promised. Bodahn answered the door with a welcoming smile and he was just about to ask if Anabel was ready when he heard her rushing down the stairs.

“I’m ready, I am, I promise.” She came racing down the stairs, her hair loose and streaming behind her. She slipped on the last step, almost fell, but righted herself, before running into the entry. She rushed up to Sebastian, going up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. She had one boot on her foot, and the other clutched in her hand. She flung herself onto the bench in the entry and pushed her foot into her boot, and then bounced to her feet again, taking the scarf from around her neck and tying her hair back. 

He couldn’t help laughing. “Anabel, slow down. There’s no rush.” In truth it was an answer to his prayers to see her so energetic again.

She just grinned. “Easy for you to say.” She said, fastening the buckles on her jacket as she spoke. “You can go outside any time you want. As soon as it gets cold again I’m going to be locked up in my mansion, like a princess in a children’s story.” She finished the last buckle. “How does it look?” She asked. “Be honest.” 

He stared for a moment. She was wearing a set of her leather armor, that oxblood set that she seemed to favor for important occasions. They were loose on her now; she’d lost so much weight when she was ill. He hadn’t seen her in trousers since the night of the duel, and hadn’t realized how much the dresses she wore had hidden the weight loss.

She saw his expression and made a face. “It’s that bad?” 

“No, it’s not that.” He hastened to reassure her. “It’s just been months since I’ve seen you in anything but a dress, that’s all. It seems strange to see you back like this.” 

“It feels strange,” she agreed. “but after feeling that winter wind up my skirt yesterday I thought I’d better dig them out again. They’re too big.” She said looking down and plucking at the waistband of the trousers. They laced up each side at her hips and the lacing had been pulled so tight that the edges of the leather were flush against each other, and still the trousers were loose. “Does it look ridiculous?” She asked, looking uncertainly at him.

“No, hardly ridiculous. Like you visited a poorly skilled tailor, perhaps.” 

She frowned looking down at them. “I suppose I should order a new set.” 

“No.” Sebastian said, walking over to stand in front of her.

She arched an eyebrow. “No?”

He put his hands on her waist. “No. We’re going to continue to pamper you and take care of you and fatten you up until your old clothes are straining at the seams.” He teased. “Aren’t we Bodahn?”

The dwarf chuckled. “Indeed we are Messere.” 

She laughed bringing her hands up to rest on his chest. “Like a Solstice day goose?” She said smiling up at him.

“Exactly.” Unable to resist he leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose.

“And then I can vanquish my enemies just by sitting on them?” She suggested.

He laughed at the thought. “There’ll be no vanquishing enemies for you for quite some time, Champion. I want you well.” He said brushing aside a curl that had already escaped from the scarf.

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his chest. “I want to be well. And I’m rather tired of vanquishing enemies anyway. That makes me a poor sort of Champion, I suppose.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I would say it show a great deal of good sense, actually.”

She laughed again. “I must be getting old. Sense has never been my strong point.”

“Perhaps wise is the word, not old.” He took her cloak from Bodahn and draped it around her shoulders. It was luxurious garment made of thick wool in a rich blue color that made her eyes sparkle, and lined in fur that had been dyed to match. He brushed her hands aside and fastened the silver clasp at her neck himself, and then pulled up the hood. 

She smiled up at him, her dimple dancing at the corner of her mouth. “Take me to see Elthina.” She ordered.

 

The Grand Cleric greeted her warmly when they arrived, telling her how everyone in the Chantry, indeed most of the Kirkwall, had been praying for her recovery. “I’m so pleased to see that you’re doing so much better.” 

She repeated the sentiment several times as they dined in her chamber. In truth she had been surprised at how fragile Hawke still looked more than two months after the duel. Sebastian had been in high spirits of late, thrilled that she was finally getting well. Elthina was almost afraid to imagine how frail Hawke must have been before, but in spite of her delicate appearance her eyes were sparkling and she was clearly happy to be out and about. “I’m so glad you could come and see me.” She said as they finished the meal and moved into her sitting room.

“As am I. The most frustrating part of being unwell has been being trapped inside. I practically knocked poor Sebastian over hugging him when he offered to take me for a walk yesterday. It’s made me appreciate the little things I took for granted. A walk outside. Sunshine on your face. I don’t ever want to be trapped inside like that again.”

“You’re still not well, Anabel.” Sebastian cautioned. “Think of how tired you got just coming up the stairs to the Chantry.” 

She just rolled her eyes. “Most people get tired going up those stairs – they’re ridiculously long and steep.”

“Yes but you used to run up them without even breathing hard. You had to stop twice today.” He reminded her.

She tried to scowl at him but ended up smiling before she turned back to Elthina. “He’s worse than a watchdog. But he has taken very good care of me. He and all my other friends. I’m sorry I stole your assistant from you, though, Grand Cleric.”

“Nonsense.” Elthina assured her. “Sister Alma and I have managed quite well without him. And he’s been doing quite a lot of work from your home.”

Anabel turned a surprised face to him. “Have you really?” She asked. She’d never seen it.

“I’ve had plenty of time to do so when you’re resting.” Sebastian explained.

She frowned. “I hadn’t even thought how dull it must be for you sitting around and watching me sleep most of the time. Is everyone so self-centered when they’re unwell, or is it just me?” She asked.

Before either of them could answer, the door was pushed open and Brother Plinth came stomping in, almost hidden by the cloak he wore, and the bright red scarf he had wrapped around his head and neck. “Grand Cleric I must protest. The Knight Commander is overstepping her bounds. I went to the Gallows to do some research in the library there only to have her forbid me access to certain books and papers I requested. She didn’t even have the nerve to tell me to my face. Had that tranquil assistant of hers inform me and…” His voice trailed off as he noticed Hawke sitting at the table and a broad smile split his face. “Look at who it is.” His outrage had vanished at the sight of her. “Still in one piece, contrary to the rumors I’ve heard."

Hawke laughed “Yes, despite the Arishok’s best efforts.” She said getting to her feet giving him a hug, which he returned, patting her back enthusiastically.

“You had us all quite worried.” He said sternly and then looking at her he frowned. “You’re still very thin. Isn’t Brother Sebastian seeing that you’re properly fed?” He said turning to Sebastian with an accusing look. Before Sebastian could answer he’d turned back to Hawke. “I quite approve of how you handled that Arishok fellow. Very sensible. Kept the fuss to a minimum. And it was quite brave as well. You’ve secured your place in Kirkwall’s history, that much is assured.”

Hawke seemed taken aback by the idea. “I hadn’t quite thought of it like that.” Maker. He was right. It was an intimidating thought.

“A young age to have achieved it.” Brother Plinth continued. “I look forward to seeing what else you accomplish.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “Bite your tongue, Brother Plinth. I intend to lead a quiet, uneventful and blissfully dull life from now on.” Unless she somehow stumbled across another Thedas-altering problem that needed fixing. That was unlikely, surely? Her smile faltered.

Brother Plinth didn’t seem to notice. “Ah, but if history shows us anything it shows us that destiny sometimes doesn’t give men, or women in this case, a choice in the matter.” 

_Hurtled into the chaos you fight and the world will shake before you._

Flemeth must have meant the Qunari and the Arishok when she said that.

Sweet Andraste, please let her have meant just that. 

As Sebastian watched, she went pale. He was immediately at her side easing her into back into a chair. He crouched down in front of her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded slowly. “Just a little light-headed.” She couldn’t think of Flemeth and her cryptic warnings or prophecies or whatever the Void they were, not now anyway, not yet. Noticing everyone’s concerned expressions, she tried to give them a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, truly. It just not every day a girl realizes she’s made history.”

“I should take you home.” Said Sebastian, not believing for a moment that that was what had made her go pale as a ghost.

“I’m fine.” She insisted. “You don’t need to cut your visit short simply because I stood up too quickly.”

“You want to be careful of your health, young Hawke.” Said Brother Plinth. “Let your young man take you home. But before you leave I have something for you. I found a book that I think might help you with that research you were working on before all this fuss with the Qunari.” He eyed Sebastian. “Brother Sebastian, you’ll come up to my office and fetch it? Let’s not make our Champion climb all those stairs.” 

Sebastian looked carefully at Anabel, reluctant to leave her side. “You’ll be all right?”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “You know there was a time when I lived all on my own. I managed to put my shoes on the correct feet almost every morning, and only once did I attempt to put my trousers on over my head.” She softened her words with a smile. “You worry too much. I’ll be fine. Go.” 

Sebastian and Brother Plinth had only just left the room when Sister Alma entered with a stack of correspondence. She looked startled to see Hawke. “Champion. I didn’t realize you were still here. I can come back later.”

Hawke got to her feet. “There’s no need, Sister Alma. I don’t want to keep either of you from your work.” She turned to Elthina. “I’m going to go down to the kitchens and thank Brother Elias for the meal, and perhaps beg a cookie or two. Will you tell Sebastian where I’ve gone when he gets back?”

“Of course Hawke.” Elthina almost asked the girl if she was certain she’d be all right, but stopped herself in time. She’d quickly realized that Hawke was more than a little tired of being treated as an invalid.

“Thank you for the lunch.” She smiled at the older woman and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “It was wonderful to see you.”

Elthina took her hands in her own. “The Maker blessed us when he sent you to our city, Champion. Come and see me again soon.”

Hawke wandered down to the kitchens pleased with herself when she managed to take only one wrong turn. The kitchens were remarkably quiet, a brief lull between the cleanup from lunch and the start of preparations for dinner. Elias was nowhere to be seen, but there was a group of young men, boys really, standing awkwardly by the door to the storerooms.

One of them turned the handle to the storeroom, opened it and peeked inside. The largest of the boys yanked him back by his collar. “We’re not supposed to touch anything, Stefan. Leave it.”

The smaller boy scowled. “Who the Void put you in charge? You aren’t a templar yet, Davin. They might change their minds about you.” 

“They won’t.” Said Davin, but he didn’t sound certain. The younger boy had turned from the storerooms and was eying a tray of cookies that were cooling on the wooden table that dominated the center of the room. Davin pulled him back again. “Don’t even think it.” He ordered.

Stefan yanked his arm free from Davin’s grasp. “The templars could change their minds. Just ‘cause you’re magespawn doesn’t mean they’ll make you a templar? It just means your ma was a slut. Like all mages.” 

She saw the older boy’s hands curl into fists. “You shut up about my mother.” He said in a low voice.

Stefan grinned, pleased to have hit his mark. “Or maybe you’re just a mage after all. Maybe it just hasn’t showed yet. Maybe instead of being a templar you’ll be locked up in the gallows with the rest of them.”

“Shut up!” He said, louder this time.

“Don’t fight.” Pleaded one of the other boys. “You’ll get us all in trouble and they’ll never let us come for the supplies again.”

They were from orphanage she realized belatedly. She quickly crossed the room, hoping to prevent the fight that Stefan seemed intent on starting. 

“Hi.” 

They turned as one to look at her. They stared for a moment and then looked to Davin for guidance. He pulled off his knit cap and the others quickly followed suit. “Messere.” He mumbled. The others echoed him.

She could see him trying to figure out who she was. She gave them a reassuring smile. “Are you lot from the orphanage in Lowtown?”

They exchanged nervous looks. “Yes, Messere.” Said Davin again. “We’ve come to get the supplies for the week.”

“That’s helpful of you.” She commented, crossing over to the tray of cookies. “I’m having a cookie.” She said picking one up. “Anyone else want one?”

Some of the younger ones actually licked their lips in anticipation, but she noticed they again looked to Davin for guidance. She wondered how old the boy was. Fourteen or so, if she had to guess. He still had slightly gangly look about him, but he was a good looking boy, with a shock of yellow hair and blue grey eyes.

He swallowed, his eyes lingering on the cookies before returning to look at her. “We’re not supposed to touch anything, Messere. Brother Elias had to step away. He was very clear that we weren’t to touch anything.”

“It’s all right. Brother Elias is a friend of mine. He won’t mind.” She scooped up several cookies and distributed them. Only Davin hesitated for a moment before taking it. 

Hawke hoisted herself up on the table, nibbling on her own cookie. “So do you all have names?” She asked idly.

It was Stefan who spoke up this time. “I’m Stefan, Messere. That’s Jamie, and that’s Tam.”

Hawke turned to Davin. “And you’re Davin?”

“Yes, Messere.” 

“My name’s Hawke.” She announced before taking another bite of her cookie.

There was a moment of stunned silence and then Stefan proclaimed loudly. “You can’t be Hawke.” He sounded outraged.

“I most certainly can.” She told him.

“Are you really the Champion?” Asked Tam, who was the smallest of the group.

“So they tell me.” She said giving him a friendly smile that he eagerly returned.

“Did you really kill a monstrous horned giant heathen?” Jamie asked. 

Hawke raised an eyebrow at the description. Straight from some Chantry’s sister’s mouth she’d bet. “I did. But he wasn’t a monster. He was called the Arishok, and he was the military leader of his people.” 

Jamie noticed the omission. “But he was a heathen.”

“Yes, he was. But if we went to Par Vollen where he lived, they’d call us the heathens.” She saw the confusion on his face and immediately regretted saying it. She could only imagine the trouble he would get into if he asked an unsuspecting sister about that.

“But you’re so little.” Said Tam.

“True.” She said giving him a smile. He couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven, and he was the only one smaller than she was. “But I grew up with a big lunk of a brother so I had lots of practice fighting with things that were much bigger than me.”

“How come your brother didn’t kill the giant?” asked Stefan, apparently still not convinced of her fighting skills.

“He’s a Grey Warden now. He runs around killing Darkspawn these days.” She turned to look at Davin. “Are you really going to be a Templar?”

Before Davin could answer Stefan burst out. “He only thinks so 'cuz his mother was a mage.”

“Shut up Stefan.” Said Davin, casting an apprehensive look at Hawke.

Stefan’s words echoed in her head. _He only thinks so ‘cuz his mother was a mage_. All that research she’d done on the templars, all that speculation as to whether they might have a small touch of magic the way she did. She’d never even thought to wonder who they recruited and why. It seemed a foolish oversight on her part. “Your mother was a mage?” She asked Davin.

She could see the boy (and for all his height and muscle he was little more than a boy) bristle defensively. “What of if?” He said aggressively. “The Maker created mages too.” He immediately looked worried that he’d offended her but she just smiled. 

“We’ve got something in common then, you and I. My father was a mage. So was my sister. They were wonderful.” She looked around at them. They all seemed stunned that she would admit it so readily.

“Your Da was in the Circle?” Davin asked hesitantly.

“For a while, here and in Fereldan.” She took another handful of cookies and passed them out before adding. “He ran off though.” 

“Your Dad was an apostate?” squeaked Stefan.

“He was. And my sister. Not my brother. He was just a git.” The smaller ones laughed. 

She jumped down from the table and wandered over to the window overlooking the gardens. They were blanketed in snow, pristine and undisturbed. She looked back at the boys and thought about the Lowtown orphanage. Right near the foundries. No yard or trees or anything of the sort, and certainly not pristine snow. She would bet anything they’d never played in the snow the way she and Carver and Bethany had when they were that age. “Who wants to have a snowball fight?” She asked slipping on her cloak and turning back to them. They were staring at her as if she were quite mad.

“Come on.” She coaxed. “Davin and I against the rest of you lot. Magespawn versus you regular blokes, right Davin?”

Davin grinned in response. She went out into the garden, and didn’t have to look behind to know they were following her.

She set the younger ones up making a stockpile of snowballs and went back to Davin to help him with their own supply.

“Do you want to be a Templar?” She asked idly as she pressed the snow into a perfect sphere.

He didn’t answer immediately. “I don’t have much of a choice. The templars come to the orphanage and choose. But yeah. It’d be a good chance for an orphan.” 

“How do you know your mother was a mage?” She asked, stacking the snowballs into a pile.

“Sister Tacey. When I was little. I misbehaved and she told me then. Said my mother was an evil mage tainted with magic and that’s why I was so bad.”

“She sounds like a bitch.” Commented Hawke. She wondered if Sebastian would look askance if she went to the orphanage and punched the woman.

Davin let out a surprised laugh. “Yeah, she was. She’s not there anymore. It’s not so bad now.” After a moment he went on. “I would have known even if she didn’t tell me though. You can tell from the way they watch you when you’re little. Watch you for magic. And if you aren’t a mage then the Templars start to talk to you about joining the order.”

She’d thought about mages who’d had their children taken away but she’d never thought about what it must be like for those children. She tried to keep her tone conversational. “Do a lot of the kids whose mothers were mages end up templars?” 

“Yeah. Or at least a lot of kids from the orphanage do when they're old enough Knight Captain Cullen came to talk to us. To look us over, really. I was the only one he picked, though.”

“I know the Knight Captain. He’s a good man.” Her head was spinning. They recruited templars from the orphanage, likely from the children who’d been taken from their mage mothers at birth. Would there be any way to verify that? There must be records. Probably at the Gallows. Probably under lock and key and guarded by dragons, knowing Meredith. 

Davin suddenly spoke, low and not looking at her, interrupting her thoughts. 

“I can’t help thinking that if I become a Templar, maybe I can meet her. At the Gallows. It’s stupid, I know. How would I even know which one she was.” He looked embarrassed that he’d even said it aloud.

She put her hand on his arm. “No, it’s not stupid. It’s not stupid at all. You probably wouldn’t know. But maybe you could treat them all like they could be your mother, or father, or sister or brother. The Gallows wasn’t always the way it is now you know. When my father was there one of his very good friends was a Templar. My brother was named after him. Maybe the gallows can be like that again. Maybe you can help it be like that.” 

“Yeah…” Davin said exhaling. He smiled and his whole face changed. “I’d like that. I’d like it to be like that.” 

 

 

Sebastian headed towards the kitchen holding the packet Brother Plinth had given him for Anabel, as well as some papers Elthina had asked him to look over. He was trying decide if he was annoyed, or worried, or amused. It had taken the Archivist a good fifteen minutes to locate the packet in the papers on his desk, and by the time Sebastian had returned to Elthina’s office, Anabel had disappeared. She was definitely on the mend, he thought with a rueful smile. They would have to watch her even more carefully now.

He turned a corner and spotted Brother Elias coming out of the Cellarer’s office. 

“Brother Elias.” He called out “I was just coming to the kitchens to pick up Serah Hawke. Is she still there?”

Elias looked blank. “I’ve been in with the Cellarer discussing the purchases for the kitchen. What makes you think the Champion is in the kitchens?”

Sebastian frowned. “She came down to thank you for that excellent lunch. You haven’t seen her?”

Brother Elias shook his head. “No, Brother.” 

They’d reached the kitchens. There was no one there.

Brother Elias spotted the empty tray immediately. “Those little blighters.” He muttered. At Sebastian’s perplexed look he explained. “The orphans are here to pick up the supplies. I told them not to touch anything, and not to leave the kitchens. And look, a whole tray of cookies gone, and no sign of them.” 

Sebastian cocked his head, hearing the shouts and yells from the Garden. He looked out the window, where several figures were shouting and flinging snowballs wildly at each other. “I think I’ve found your orphans, Brother.” He said with a smile, as he walked to the door.

He pushed it open just in time to hear Anabel yell. “For good King Maric! Down with the Orlesian invaders!”

And there she was, pink-cheeked, covered in snow, not wearing her gloves, her cloak thrown back over her shoulders, he assumed to facilitate the snowball fight.

“Andraste’s flaming sword!” He muttered under his breath.

Brother Elias looked shocked. “Brother Sebastian.” He said in a scolding voice.

Sebastian ignored him. “Anabel Hawke!” He shouted striding into the garden.

She froze in place and then turned slowly to face him. She suddenly grinned. “Darkspawn have been sighted! All good men of Thedas unite to take them down!” She scooped up an armful of snowballs from their cache and ran towards Sebastian, laughing and flinging them wildly. She stumbled and dropped most of them and lay there laughing even harder. Sebastian was instantly at her side, helping her to her feet, trying to brush some of the snow off of her. She glanced behind her. The orphans stood where she had left them staring open-mouthed. She turned back to Sebastian, trying to catch her breath. “Alas, my troops seem to have deserted me.” She said forlornly.

“Apparently so, Champion.” Sebastian said wryly. 

“Would it avail me to throw myself on the mercy of my enemy?” She inquired with a tilt of her head. She dropped the last snowball to the ground and brought her hands to her mouth, breathing on them in an attempt to warm them.

“Probably not. My mercy is rather strained at the moment.” Sebastian admitted, trying not to smile. “I leave you for barely a quarter of an hour so that you can rest, and find you rampaging in the snow, dragging innocent orphans into your shenanigans.” He lifted her hands and warmed them between his own. “What happened to your gloves?”

“I must have lost them.” She said, entirely unconcerned. Sebastian looked over her head to the orphans, now standing in an apprehensive huddle. The smallest of them was wearing gloves remarkably similar in appearance to the ones Anabel had been wearing this morning.

“I suppose I should count myself lucky that you didn’t give away your cloak.” He raised her fingers to his mouth, and breathed on them.

She shivered at the feeling of his breath, hot against her skin. “I can buy new gloves.”

“And fingers? Do you have a ready supply of those as well?” Andraste protect her from her own generosity. Some warmth finally seemed to be coming back into her fingers. “You’re only just recovering Anabel. You can’t afford another illness. Anders has told you that. A more sensible woman wouldn’t see that as instructions to go out romping in the snow.”

She just smiled. “I did warn you that sense wasn’t my strong suit.” She said, moving closer to him and burying her face in his chest. Just for warmth, she told herself.

He wrapped her in his cloak, and coincidentally, his arms. “Yes, well I hadn’t realized just how serious you were about that.”

“Luckily I have you take care of me.” She nestled into him and rested her head on his chest. 

His arms tightened around her and he kissed the top of her head. “Yes. Yes, you do.”

He rested his chin on her head and looked up to see both Brother Elias and orphans were staring at them. He wasn’t certain which of them looked more shocked. He let his arms slip from around her and took a step back. “Brother Elias seems to be missing some cookies. Would you have had anything to do with that?”

She pretended to give it some thought. “I do recall partaking of some baked goods, yes.”

“Hmmm." He kept one arm around her and walked her back towards the kitchen door. “Brother Elias, I believe I’ve found your cookie thief.” 

“I’m afraid it was me Brother.” She said repentantly. “I couldn’t resist them.”

“You ate all those cookies?” Said Elias trying to hide a smile. “A full dozen?”

“They were very good cookies, and I’ve a very sweet tooth.” She said keeping a perfectly straight face. “I’m certain these young men, who fought so valiantly by my side would enjoy them as well if there happened to be any more.”

Brother Elias looked over at the boys and couldn’t help smiling. “As it happens there are, and some mulled cider as well. We need to keep the Champion’s soldiers fit for battle now don’t we?”

 

They walked slowly back to her house. Anabel pulled her cloak tightly around her, trying to keep her hands tucked inside it. The temperature was already dropping, and the clouds were dark and low.

Anabel glanced up at them. “It’s going to snow again, isn’t it?”

“It looks like it.” He agreed.

She sighed. “I won’t be allowed out.”

He looked at her. Her cheeks were still flushed, and she looked tired, though he knew she would never admit to it. He shouldn’t have left her alone, he thought again, but how was he to know she’d manage to get up to mischief in the heart of the Chantry? “No, not if the weather is too severe.”

Orana rushed to the door as they walked, helping Hawke off with her cloak.

“Is there something warm to drink Orana?” Sebastian asked. “Messere Hawke thought it a good idea to indulge in a snowball fight in the Chantry gardens, as well as to give away her gloves.”

Hawke just laughed as she took off the jacket which was quite damp from the snow. “Don’t rat me out to Orana. She’s still got some respect for me.” She smiled at the elven girl. “Something warm would be lovely, if you have it, Orana.”

 

In no time at all they were sitting in the library in front of the fire drinking goblets of warm spiced wine. 

Anabel watched the flames. It had been a good day. Exhausting, but good. The combination of the warmth from the fire and the wine were making her sleepy though. “I had an interesting talk with Davin, the boy from the orphanage. Remind me to tell you about it tomorrow.”

He watched her, wondering if he could convince her to go upstairs and rest, or if she would just fall asleep here, on the sofa. “Not today?”

“I’m too tired to give it the thought it deserves today.”

He reached over and pulled her to him, putting his arm around her. She rested her head against his chest. He stroked her hair and her eyes began to close. “You should go upstairs and sleep.” He said softly.

“I might.” She murmured.

Her ready agreement let him know just how exhausted she was. He sat up, bringing her with him. “Go on.”

She hesitated only a moment. “You’ll still stay for dinner?”

He did most days. “Of course.” He said with a smile. 

She got to her feet, and it was only because he was watching her so carefully that he saw the quick grimace that crossed her face. Her hand went to her side.

To where her injury had been. 

“Why are you holding your side?”

Her hand immediately dropped. “It’s nothing.” She said.

“Why?” He asked again.

“It’s nothing.” She repeated. “I’m going upstairs to sleep.” But she looked wide awake now. 

He prayed for patience. “Anabel Hawke…” He said in a warning voice. 

“It’s nothing,” She insisted stubbornly, trying to walk past him. 

He caught her hand and pulled her back. “I’m going to ask you once more. Why were you holding your side? Is your injury causing you pain?” She’d done too much. He shouldn’t have taken her out again so soon. Most of the orphans she’d had the snowball fight with had been bigger than she was. He should have been watching her.

“It’s nothing. The waistband of my trousers rubbed against my scar. It’s a little sore, that’s all.” 

He frowned not believing her. “Let me see.” 

“No!” The word came out of her with such force that he was startled. She pulled her hand free of his. “It’s nothing.” She said, for the fourth time.

“After some of your past antics I’m disinclined to believe you.” 

“You don’t need to see it.” She said, not looking at him.

He ignored her, pulling her closer and to his surprise she fought him. “I said, no!” She jerked out of his grasp. 

He looked at her in surprise and realized she was close to tears. “Anabel…”

“Please.” She said, her eyes pleading with him not to pursue it  
.  
He got to his feet and moved to stand in front of her, tilting her face up. “What is it? Why are you so upset?”

She bit down on her lip and looked away. “I don’t want you to see it.” she said, her voice so low that he had to strain to hear it.

For a moment he didn’t understand, and then he realized. The scar. She didn’t want him to see the scar. It was so ludicrous that he almost laughed but seeing her expression he couldn’t. “Ana. You can’t possibly think that matters to me.”

“You haven’t seen it.” She said stubbornly. “It’s so ugly.” She was staring down at the floor now. 

Anabel Hawke was the least vain person he knew. I hadn’t even occurred to him that she might be upset by having a scar. “You do realize that I saw this scar when it was a gaping wound, don’t you?”

“That was different. It was an injury then. It was going to heal. You knew it wasn’t always going to be like that. This…” Her hand hovered above her waist, as if she couldn’t even bear to touch it. “It’s always going to be there. It’s not going to change.”

“When I saw the wound I thought you wouldn’t survive it. That scar shows me that you did. That I didn’t lose you. It’s a small price to pay.”

“I know. I know and I feel like the most superficial person alive, feeling like this. I know it’s vain and selfish and stupid.” Her voice caught and for a moment she didn’t speak. “It’s always going to look like this. Raised up, wrapping around my waist, thick, and long. Anders says it won’t be as red, eventually. But even it if that’s true, there’s no hiding it, no disguising it, and I look at myself in a mirror and all I can think is who could see past that?”

 _I could_ , thought Sebastian. But she was still speaking.

“All I can think of is those stupid rumors that were going around when no one had seen me for so long, that I was disfigured. Turns out Kirkwall gossip got it right for once. I am disfigured. I looked the word up. ‘To mar the appearance or beauty of. To deform.’ It's so stupid. I know I’m not beautiful. I’m too little and I’ve got this ridiculous frizzy orange hair, but I had nice skin, and a pretty good figure, even if I’ve no boobs to speak of.” She said with a small smile, trying to make a joke of it, but Sebastian didn’t smile back, and she looked away again. “I don’t now. I can forget about it most of the time, because no one ever sees it. I can pretend it’s not there. If you saw it I couldn’t pretend.” She looked at him again and her eyes were dark with emotion and filled with tears. “Just let me pretend about this, okay?” 

She couldn’t read his expression. He wasn’t smiling. If she had to guess she would have said he looked almost angry. 

He didn’t answer her, just stared at her with that same expression on his face.

She couldn’t stand the silence any more. She turned to leave the room, and he caught her arm.

“No.” It was all he said.

She didn’t understand what he meant until he took her by the hand, and moved backwards until his knees hit the couch and he sat down. He pulled her closer so she stood between his knees. He reached and began pulling her shirt free of the trousers.

She reached down to stop him. “Don’t.” she whispered. “Please.”

He looked up at her. “Move your hand Ana.”

She hesitated for just a moment and then did as he’d said, raising both arms, and putting her hands behind her head lacing her fingers together. She closed her eyes as she felt him tug the shirt free. He pushed it out of the way, moved it up above her waist, and his other arm went around her back, catching the fabric in his hand, holding the shirt raised up so his view was unobstructed. For a moment he was perfectly still.

Sebastian stared at the scar. He hadn’t seen it in weeks – months actually. It had an almost raw look still, the skin pink and shiny, and where the waistband of her trousers had rubbed against it looked red and angry. He turned her just a bit and reaching out his hand, traced it from where it started at her back, just above her waist. It was only a thin pink line there. He moved his hand down to where the line widened as it curved around her waist becoming thicker as it slanted down towards her hip. Where it disappeared into her trousers it was as wide as his forefinger. It stood out in stark contrast against her otherwise flawless white skin.

He glanced up at her face. She was staring at a point above his head, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Even as he watched a tear trickled down her cheek.

She truly believed he would be repulsed by it. That because of a scar he would no longer find her desirable. 

And suddenly he was angry. Angry that she could think so little of him and how he felt about her. Angry with the Arishok for giving her the scar in the first place. But most of all he was angry with himself for having failed her, for never realizing that it bothered her so much, and for never letting her know how desirable she was.

That last one he could do something about.

There was a determined glint in his eye as he moved his hand from her waist to the laces at the side of her trousers, and before she had time to fully process what he was doing, he’d loosened the ties and was pushing the trousers down over her hip. Some dim part of his brain was surprised at the ease with which he did it. Some skills never disappeared apparently, no matter how long they’d been unused.

“Sebastian!” Anabel tried to pull away, but Sebastian still held her shirt raised at her back, and he tightened his grip on the fabric, preventing her from moving. She reached down a hand to pull up her trousers and he caught her wrist in his hand. He looked up at her and the heat in his blue eyes seemed to paralyze her, like a rabbit cornered by a snake. He didn’t speak, just slowly pushed her arm back to where it had been and continued easing the trousers past her hip. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as the scarlet silk of her smalls was revealed but he pushed the thought of them from his mind.

He looked at that perfect line of her torso– the dip of her waist, the gentle swelling of her hips and her buttocks. _Sweet Andraste_ he thought. Perfectly toned, her skin so pale it was almost unearthly. His fingers rested on the swell of her hips and he couldn’t help brushing them lightly against the skin just above her smalls. He had to close his eyes as a wave of desire swept through him. Her skin was like satin, that smooth, that perfect. He forced himself to focus on the scar. It ended just above her hip bone. Somehow seeing it like this, the full length of it, the one imperfection in an otherwise perfect canvas, seemed only to emphasize the flawlessness of the rest of her, and Dear Maker, but for that scar she was flawless. He ran his hand down the scar from start to finish, barely feeling it, feeling instead the warmth of her and the smoothness of her skin, the tautness of the muscles that ran beneath. He looked up at her, barely able to breathe. “You’re perfect.” He said.

She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to see his face when he said it, couldn’t risk that he might be lying. She shook her head. “No.” She whispered.

He didn’t try to argue with her. Instead he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to where the scar began, feeling her whole body tense when he did. His mouth traveled the length of the scar, slowly, savoring every inch of her skin. He felt her relax, felt her begin to lean into the touch of his lips. His free hand moved to the small of her back pressing her more firmly against him and he continued kissing it, kissing her, inhaling her scent, savoring the feel of that satin smooth skin against his lips. When he came to the end of the scar, he hesitated for just a moment, and then continued past it, to that slight hollow of her pelvis and he stopped again, pressing his face there, feeling the heat of her, just breathing her in. He felt her hand clutch at his shoulder.

She was obviously dreaming. Or she’d gone mad. Or possibly both. It was the only explanation she could offer for what was happening, her trousers unlaced and pushed past her hips, Sebastian’s mouth hot against her skin travelling from her waist to the front of her hip, now resting almost at the juncture of her thigh and hip. She could feel his breath against the silk of her smalls. She didn’t know what it meant. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do, but Sweet Maker she didn’t want it to stop.

And then he turned his head and bit her, sinking his teeth lightly into her skin.

Her legs buckled and she couldn’t help the sound that left her mouth, something between a moan and a squeal, and certainly not a sound she ever remembered making before. _Holy…_ and then he ran his tongue along where he had bitten and she made the sound again, but louder and it was only his hands on her back that kept her from falling to her knees in front of him. 

Only dimly aware of the fact that he must have lost his mind somewhere in this process, Sebastian moved his mouth to her hip bone, too prominent from her illness, but irresistible. He had bitten down lightly enough that he’d left no mark, but it had stirred darker things, other memories that made him want. Made him desire all those things he’d though he wouldn’t have again. He’d wanted to show her how desirable she was but he’d forgotten that it was a double edged sword and his desire for her, his aching for her was almost overwhelming now. He rested his head against her stomach, bringing his hands to her waist, trying to regain some control. After a moment he looked up at her. Her lips were parted, she was breathing heavily, and her eyes were dark with desire. She had never looked so beautiful. “You are perfect.” He said. It came out as almost a growl.

That small sound she had made had gone straight to his groin. He wondered what sort of sounds she would make when he made love to her.

When, not if.

The thought had appeared so naturally. It couldn’t be that simple. 

He pressed his face against her stomach again, trying to process it. His hands gripped her pelvis, and he could feel her hip bones. Still so thin. Still not well. He had no business pushing the issue, not before she was truly healed. 

It hadn’t been his intention to begin to make love to her. He hadn’t been able to stop.

He straightened up and pulled her trousers over her hips, deftly tying the laces before pulling her into his arms. He reached up and brushed her hair back from her face. “You are perfect.” He repeated, and to his relief his voice sounded almost normal. He leaned forward and gently kissed her lips.

She couldn’t help a small smile. “You make a very convincing argument.” She managed to say and was proud that her voice only sounded slightly breathless. She looked at him in wonder. “Oddly enough I’m not tired at all now.” She leaned down to kiss him again. “I am going to change though. You’ll still be here when I get back?”

“Yes.” He said with a reassuring smile. “I’m not going anywhere.” He watched her leave, and then he was alone, with the memory of how she’d looked and felt and tasted. _She isn’t well yet_ , he reminded himself again.

 _But what about when she is?_ That voice inside him asked. _What will you do then, lad? How long will you be able to resist her once she’s truly well and healed?_

He didn’t have the answer to that. And so he did what thirteen years in the Chantry had taught him. He prayed. For guidance. For himself. For her. _Let me do the right thing, Blessed Andraste_ , he asked. _For both of us_. 

 

By the time Anabel had returned he had recovered some peace of mind.

She had changed into a simple dress made of a soft bluish colored velvet. She paused almost shyly at the door. Sebastian had been reading some of Elthina’s correspondence, but looked up immediately when she came back. “That’s a pretty color.” He said with a smile.

“Dark seafoam, my dressmaker calls it. I don’t know how they come up with these names, but I thought it was soothing.” She moved to the desk and picked up Brother Plinth’s packet.

“It is. You look lovely.” From leather clad rogue to delicate maiden in the space of an hour.

She actually blushed. “Thank you.” She didn’t know why she was suddenly so nervous around him. Unless it was that whole pushing down her trousers and biting her hip thing he’d done earlier. She sat down beside him and opened the packet. There was a small book, ancient to judge by its appearance, and a stack of handwritten papers. She picked up the book. _Casum Arlathan_. She opened it carefully. The whole of the text was in ancient Tevene. 

Sebastian looked over at her. “What did Brother Plinth send?”

“A book. Something about Arlathan, I think.” She passed him the thin volume. 

He looked at the spine. “The Fall of Arlathan.” He translated.

She frowned. “Why on Thedas would he send me this?” 

“You never know with Brother Plinth, but there’s usually a purpose to what he does. It might be as simple as he thought it might keep you amused during your convalescence.” 

“I suppose so.” She said dubiously. She’d been expecting something about Templars. She picked up the stack of papers. There was a note on the first page.

_Hawke,_

_I came across this in a rather dusty corner of the chantry library. Upon reading it I thought you might find the contents of interest. Please keep the book as a thank you for all you’ve done for me, for the Chantry and for Kirkwall. This is the only copy of the book, but it contains nothing that need concern the citizens of Kirkwall._

_Brother Plinth_ , _Archivist of the Kirkwall Chantry_

_Post script: I’ve marked a passage of particular interest to you in the translation._

She frowned again and passed the paper to Sebastian. “He’s being rather more cryptic than usual, isn’t he?”

Sebastian read it with an amused smile. “Indeed.” He turned back to his papers.

She leaned back against the cushions and tucked her feet under her, and began to leaf through the papers, looking for the passage he’d marked. She finally found it almost at the bottom of the stack.

Sebastian had just finished a particularly wordy letter of complaint from Mother Greta at the Chantry in Hercinia when Anabel suddenly sat upright. The papers that had been balanced on her lap fell to the floor. Her eyes were huge as she read the page, her eyes, flickering back and forth.

“Ana?” He asked, alarmed at the expression on her face, a strange combination of fear and fascination. She finished reading and stared at it. “Ana? What is it?” She looked at him, and without a word passed him the page. 

_After the fall of Arlathan, the Tevinter magisters, fearing the magic of those whose land they had obliterated in such a horrific fashion, and fearing that in their desperation the elvhen would stop at nothing to gain revenge for the act of destruction that the magisters had wrought, created a terrible new magic. Through sacrifice of blood and life at the altar of the Old Gods, through bargains with the very demons of the Fade, they discovered a way to strip the unborn children of the elvhen of their magic. And when these children were born they were named **arcebatur** , for they had been cut off from the very source of their power and could no longer be called mage._

_It is said the spirits of the Fade wept and raged and mourned the loss of these children and that their sorrow was so great that for a time even those who had no magic could feel the spirits’ anguish when they dreamed at night._

_And thus, slowly, over many decades, magic was depleted from all but a handful of the elvhen and they ceased to be any threat to Tevinter._

Anabel had been right. There was a spell that could strip magic from a mage without making them tranquil, and somehow her father had found it. He looked up at her.

“It’s not the First Enchanter I need to talk to after all.” She said, sounding dazed. “It’s Marethari.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age babblings can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	3. A Conversation with Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anabel thinks of someone else to ask about what the Tevinter Magisters did to the Elvhen, and Sebastian and Justice finally meet.

Sebastian spent the next twenty minutes explaining to Anabel why she couldn’t go out to Sundermount to speak with Marethari.

“Perhaps she’d be willing to come here.” Anabel suggested, still not ready to give up. “We could send someone.”

“Anabel, be reasonable. Do you think everyone has been busy clearing the path up Sundermount? It’s been hard enough to keep the Hightown streets free of snow. Even if we could get someone to deliver a message to Sundermount, would you truly have Marethari leave her people during one of the harshest winters the Free Marches has ever experienced?” 

Her face showed her frustration. “No, of course not.” She said finally. She looked so like a child who’d been denied a treat that he couldn’t help laughing even as he pulled her into his arms. She came willingly, burrowing her face against his chest. “Why couldn’t I have been injured in the spring or the summer?” She grumbled.

He laughed again. “Yes it was most inconsiderate of the Arishok not to take the weather into account when he attacked.” 

“I’m being ridiculous. I do realize that.”

“Your life is full mysteries. Of course you want to know more. It’s entirely understandable.” 

She was quieter than usual throughout dinner and when he took his leave of her he bent down and kissed her holding her face in his hands and brushing his thumb over her cheekbone, noting the dark circles under her eyes. “You look exhausted. Promise me you’ll rest.” She’d done far too much today and most of it unintentionally. His plan had been to take her to the Chantry for a quiet lunch with the Grand Cleric. How in the Maker’s name had it turned into snowball fights, and forgotten magic and the taste and heat of her skin on his lips? Unable to help himself he leaned in and kissed her again, just to taste her again. It was chaste in comparison to their earlier encounter, but still he couldn’t keep from lightly running his tongue against her lips. 

She went up on tiptoes to prolong the touch and they were both breathless when they broke apart. 

“Rest.” He repeated.

“I promise I’ll try.” She was exhausted, or at least her body was. Her mind wouldn’t stop. Had Da found the spell in some library? Had he actually been to Tevinter when he was supposed to have been on that mercenary job he’d taken when Leandra was pregnant with her? Or had he been to the Dalish? Was that how he had even found out such a spell existed?

She looked up at Sebastian to find him watching her with suspicion. She couldn’t help laughing. “I promise, I won’t sneak out and run up to Sundermount before morning.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was getting harder to leave her each evening. “I’ll be by first thing in the morning. Just to make certain.” 

Sleep proved as elusive as she’d feared. After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, she finally gave up and lighting a lamp pulled out Brother Plinth’s translation again and reread it for probably the one hundredth time. 

“ _And when these children were born they were named **arcebatur** , for they had been cut off from the very source of their power and could no longer be called mage._” It didn’t tell her anything new. She kept on reading.

“ _It is said the spirits of the Fade wept and raged and mourned the loss of these children and that their sorrow was so great that for a time even those who had no magic could feel the spirits’ anguish when they dreamed at night_.”

It was what that demon Torpor had said when they’d gone into the Fade after Feynriel. _We felt your loss_. It didn’t tell her anything new. She put the papers on her bedside table and blew out the lamp.

And then lay there wide awake, thinking of Torpor.

It still gave her the shivers. She wondered if the demon had been around during Arlathan and what had followed. He must have been. The Maker had left the spirits in the Fade, and gone on to make men. There weren’t new demons being created; only good spirits that had been corrupted and become demons. Torpor must have been one of those.

She turned on her side, fluffing up her pillow and lying back down, willing herself to sleep.

Of course they’d all been just spirits in the beginning. The Maker’s first children who had disappointed their creator, and so he’d created men. The spirits had been jealous, and the jealousy had corrupted them. It was only then they became demons. 

But Brother Plinth’s book didn’t say it was the demons who had mourned.

It said all the spirits mourned.

All the spirits.

She sat upright, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought it before. She shoved back the covers and going swiftly to her wardrobe pulled out some leathers. 

Maybe she didn’t need to ask Marethari about it. Maybe there was someone closer she could ask. 

 

Anders stifled a yawn as he continued writing. For the first time in weeks the clinic was empty. The break in the cold weather was responsible for that. The lull wouldn’t last now that it was snowing again, but he would take advantage of it while he could. 

There was a sound at his door and a muffled curse. 

Justice was suddenly agitated. Was it templars? Had Meredith decided to send someone to take him in before Hawke was fully recovered? He had no doubt Meredith knew everything about him by now. He wondered if it was his uncertain status as a Grey Warden or his association with Hawke that had kept him safe so far.

 _There is danger._ Justice insisted.

Anders doused the light he’d been using, the only illumination in the clinic now coming from the brazier beside the desk. He slipped into the shadows behind one of the columns at the front of the clinic. The door opened slowly and a small figure slipped in. Anders immediately lashed out with a cold spell. It would slow whoever it was without doing too much damage if it were someone simply seeking healing.

To his surprise whoever it was dropped to the floor almost before he had released the spell. It hit the wooden door making it crackle with ice.

“Andraste’s tits, Anders!” 

What the… “Hawke?” 

“Who else picks your lock at this time of night?” She pushed herself to her knees, picking up the papers that had fallen when she’d dropped to the ground, as well as a small book. She got to her feet and reached out a hand out to touch the ice on the door. “Impressive. I forget how good you are with elemental spells.” She commented, turning back to him.

“What in the Void are you doing down here?” He was still trying to process it.

“Oh you know I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d drop by.” She said with an easy grin. She shivered suddenly. “Maker, it’s freezing down here.” 

He stared at her. Unarmed, just in leathers, not even wearing a cloak. For just a second he was torn between relief that she was finally feeling well enough to pull a stunt like this and fury that she had risked herself and pulled a stunt like this. Fury won out. 

“Are you insane?” He shouted at her.

She just sighed. “A lot of people seem to be asking me that lately. It can’t be a good sign.” She shivered again. How did he stand it down here? “I wish you’d come and stay at my place when it’s this cold. How can you even work like this?” 

He counted to ten and when that didn’t work continued to twenty. Unfortunately that gave him the time to get a good look at her. No cloak. No gloves. No daggers. Clutching a handful of papers, so not even prepared for a fistfight. 

When he didn’t speak she gave him a worried look. “All right, now you’re making me nervous. Say something.” 

He grabbed his staff from where it was leaning against the wall, and then stalked towards her “I’m taking you home.” He announced.

“I need to talk to you.” She protested. “I found out something.”

“Home.” He repeated, putting a hand on the small of her back and ushering her out of the clinic. “When we get there you can tell me whatever it is that brought you down here in the middle of the night alone and unarmed, and Andraste help me Hawke, it had better be good because I am sorely tempted to take you over my knee right now and give you the spanking you deserve.”

Just a glimpse at his face and she stifled the retort that had immediately popped into her mind. It was a good one too. Isabela would have loved it. She sighed. Maker, she missed Isabela. Everyone was so serious around her these days. She fleetingly wondered if the pirate was ever going to return to Kirkwall, or if they’d seen the last of her. Her palms were stinging from the scrapes she’d gotten when she’d landed on the ground and she held them up to him with a hopeful expression. “Fix me first?” She asked. 

He was tempted for a moment to refuse. “You are a spoiled little thing.” He said and taking her hands brushed his thumbs over the palms releasing just the slightest bit of healing magic.

The stinging ceased instantly. “I think I’m sweet.” She said looking up at him with a teasing smile.

Try as he might he couldn’t help smiling back. “And spoiled. Maybe if your father hadn’t healed every injury on demand, you wouldn’t be so reckless.” He said as they walked towards the hidden entrance to her house. He couldn’t blame the man actually. He could only imagine how hard to resist she would have been as a child, running up with tears in those huge blue-green eyes and a scraped knee, asking for healing. 

She opened the door and they started up the ladder that led to her basement. Hawke went first, with Anders right behind her. 

“So what are these papers?” He asked as they climbed, trying not to watch her rather delectable behind as they went.

“A translation of a book Brother Plinth gave me.”

More chantry prigs. “Which one’s Brother Plinth?”

“The archivist.” She paused and tried to catch her breath before continuing. “He’s absolutely brilliant and just a bit mad. I adore him.”

“You would.” He muttered.

They’d reached the entrance to her house and she pulled out the key and opened it. “What’s that supposed to mean.” She asked breathlessly. 

“It means that that same description could easily be applied to you. What have you been doing today?” He asked with a frown.

“Sebastian took me to visit Elthina. Why?”

“I don’t like how exhausted you are just from going up that ladder. That’s all that you did?” 

“I stole some cookies and led some orphans astray. We may have had a snowball fight in the Chantry gardens.” She gave him an unrepentant smile.

He’d both looked forward to and dreaded this day; when she was well enough to start getting into mischief again. “And where was your boyfriend during all this?” He’d thought Sebastian would have kept a better eye on her. The prince had asked him if he thought she was well enough to go outside. He’d agreed because he’d thought if anyone could keep her in line it would be Sebastian.

“Stop calling him my boyfriend.” She wasn’t sure why it made her so uncomfortable when he did that, but it did. “He’d gone with Brother Plinth to get the book.” They wandered into the kitchens. “You hungry? I’m sure I can scrounge up something. I know there’s pie.” 

“What kind?” He asked.

“Does it matter? It’s pie. As far as I’ve been able to discover there isn’t a bad flavor. Do you want some milk with it?”

“I suppose not, and yes.” He sat at the table and watched as she cut two big pieces from the pie (pear and dried cherries as it turned out), and poured them each a cup of milk. They sat together at the wooden work table to eat it. Anders devoured his piece, and without a word she brought him another and after a moment’s hesitation cut herself another as well.

“It’s nice eating dessert with someone who appreciates them.” She said as she put the plates down. “Sebastian doesn’t care for sweets.”

“It’s good to know he’s got one fault at least.” Of course his fault would be considered a virtue by the Chantry. The prat. He really didn’t want to think about Vael right now. “Let me see those papers that were so important.” 

She wordlessly pushed them over to him. “The important one’s on top.”

Anders began to read, and sat up straighter as he realized just what he was reading about. Justice grew increasingly uneasy as he did so. Not angry as he usually was when Hawke was involved, but upset, and almost melancholy. 

Those Tevinter bastards. Yanking magic away from a whole race in their pursuit of power. He read the page for a second time. Where on Thedas had Malcolm Hawke found this spell? How had he been able to duplicate it on his own, an apostate mage on the run, with no access to the Circle’s resources? 

“What do you think?” She asked eagerly.

“Eat your pie. You need to put on some weight.” He leafed through the earlier pages. They seemed to deal only with the story of the war between the Elvhen and Tevinter. He went back to the first page he’d read and frowned. “Why is the word _arcebatur_ underlined? Why did this Brother Plinth even give you this book anyway?”

“He’s fluent in Ancient Tevene. I’d asked him about the word once. I didn’t tell him why.” She insisted a little defensively when he shot her a disbelieving look.

“And yet when he finds this book he gives it to you.” He just shook his head. “I shudder to think what would have happened to you if your father hadn’t found this spell. You would have been caught a dozen times over by now.”

“Well, thank you for the vote of confidence.”

He gave her a withering look. “You don’t think this Brother Plinth hasn’t figured out the ‘why’ now?”

She seemed unconcerned. “Of course he has. I told you, he’s brilliant. But he won’t tell on me. He likes me too much.”

Tell on her. As if they were children keeping secrets from the grownups. Too trusting. Too trusting by half. He could only hope she was right in this case. He covered his worry by straightening the papers into a neat stack. “I agree it’s fascinating, but it doesn’t give us any more insight into how your father found this spell, or what the repercussions of it might be, and it doesn’t explain your abilities either.” He gave her a pointed look. “So tell me, why was it so important that I hear about this tonight, that you risk both your health and your safety by coming down into the Undercity?”

“I want to ask Justice about it.” She said eagerly. “I want to talk to him.” For the first time she looked nervous. “Directly.”

Anders wasn’t quite certain which of them was more alarmed by the idea, him or Justice. “You’re bloody insane, you do realize that, don’t you?” He was surprised at how calm he sounded.

She brushed it aside with a wave of her hand. “You said that already. Just think about it…” She started to say.

“You do realize he nearly killed you the last time the two of you spoke ‘directly’?”

“That was a misunderstanding.” 

He shook his head. “No. Absolutely not.” There was no way he would agree to this.

“Don’t you remember what Torpor said? About forgotten magic and about remembering me? You yourself said there was no concept of time in the Fade. If Torpor remembers this magic, if he remembers me, maybe Justice does too. Maybe he was there.” 

Anders opened his mouth to deny it, to say that it was a ridiculous idea, but in one of those moments when he and Justice truly were one he knew with complete certainty that her hunch was right. He tried to reach, to ‘remember’ more and felt Justice pull away. 

_She is a danger,_ Justice repeated, as he’d repeated since the day they met her. For the first time it made sense.

Hawke had been watching him carefully. She didn’t say anything, but a satisfied smile curled her lips. 

_Shit_ , thought Anders. She was right. She needed to talk to Justice.

 

 

Sebastian had paused at Anabel’s front door to kick the snow off his boots when he heard Varric call out.

“Choir Boy!”

He turned and smiled at the dwarf. “You’re here early, Varric. Have you come for breakfast?”

Varric smiled. “You know I won’t turn down Orana’s cooking, but Blondie actually sent a note to the Hanged Man asking if I’d come by.”

Sebastian’s brows came together in a frown. “Anders is here?” Without waiting for Bodahn to answer the door, he pushed it open and walked inside. “Anabel?” He called out, trying to keep the panic from his voice. He shouldn’t have taken her out yesterday. He shouldn’t have let her out of his sight.

Ander’s voice answered from the library. “In here.” 

Sebastian walked quickly to the door. Anders was seated at the desk in the corner. He gestured with the quill he was holding to the couch by the fireplace. Anabel was curled up asleep there, with a blanket draped over her.

Sebastian crouched down beside her. “She’s not ill?” He asked softly. He reached out and brushed her cheek lightly with his fingertips. No fever, he noted with relief. 

“No, she’s fine.” said Anders. “Though I’m surprised, after all she got up to yesterday.”

Sebastian couldn’t help smiling as he got to his feet. “Yes. She had all manner of adventures. I’m afraid I didn’t heed your warnings about her getting into mischief when she was beginning to recover. She told you about the snowball fight at the Chantry then?”

“Oh yes. She told me all about it when she came down to the clinic in the middle of the night, unarmed and not even wearing a coat or a cloak.” 

Sebastian stared at him for a moment, not certain he had heard correctly. “She did what?”

“Tattletale.”

Sebastian turned back to the couch. Anabel was pushing herself upright. She yawned and stretched, and then smiled sleepily. “Good Morning.”

He didn’t return the greeting. “You went to the Undercity last night?”

She just rolled her eyes. “You make it sound like I went tromping through all of Darktown. I just went down the stairs in my basement.” She pulled the ribbon out of her hair and ran her fingers through the tangles, trying to bring some kind of order to it.

“Without a cloak and unarmed?” He asked, trying to keep his voice even.

“Again, just going down the stairs. I didn’t think it would be so cold in the clinic.” She said sounding exasperated.

“And alone?”

“Ummm…Champion of Kirkwall.” She reminded him as she gathered her hair together and re-tied the ribbon. “Surely that title comes with a certain ability to defend myself, don’t you think?”

“I might accept that excuse once you can go up the stairs to the Chantry without having to stop twice to catch your breath. Until you’re well enough to defend yourself it doesn’t carry much weight.” Sebastian pointed out.

“Wait until she tells you why she came down.” Said Anders. 

Hawke gave him a sharp look. “You agreed we need to do it.”

He’d told her he wanted someone else there when they attempted this, before she’d fallen asleep on the couch. Sebastian was expected for breakfast, of course, but Anders had suggested they ask Varric to be there as well. Varric wouldn’t put a bolt through him unless he was truly a danger to Hawke or anyone else. He wasn’t sure of Sebastian would be quite so careful. “I may have reconsidered while you were sleeping.” He threw down the quill he’d been holding and stood preparing himself for the argument that was sure to follow such a statement.

Hawke didn’t disappoint him. She stalked over to him looking positively outraged. “Oh no you don’t. You said...”

“I was obviously sleep-deprived and temporarily insane.” He rubbed his hand over his eyes. Somehow with the prince standing there in his shiny white armor, the frown on his face failing to mar his good looks in the slightest, it seemed like a horrible idea. Justice seemed to agree; he’d been growing increasingly agitated and loud, for lack of a better word, since Anders had given in to Hawke’s request. 

Sebastian looked at Varric for some clarification but the dwarf just shrugged as if to say he didn’t understand it any better. He turned to Anabel. “You aren’t still talking about trying to get to Sundermount and talk to Marethari?”

“Oh no. I know that’s not possible.” She smiled at him. “I’m going to talk to Justice about it.” And Andraste help him, she sounded thrilled by the idea.

There was a moment of stunned silence and then Varric burst out laughing. “Oh, Hawke. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re better. Things have been awfully dull without you around to stir them up.”

Sebastian stared at her in disbelief. “You want to talk to a spirit.” He asked, just to make certain he’d heard her correctly.

If he’d expected her to deny it he was disappointed. “Who would know better about what happened in Arlathan? _It is said the spirits of the Fade wept and raged and mourned the loss of these children and that their sorrow was so great that for a time even those who had no magic could feel the spirits’ anguish when they dreamed at night._ “ She rattled the words off. “Justice would have been there.”

She’d already memorized the section Brother Plinth had underlined. How many times had she read it to be able to do that. Sebastian glanced over at Anders who had remained silent during the exchange. He looked grim but resigned. “You can’t think this is a good idea.” Sebastian couldn’t understand what could possibly have convinced the mage to do this. 

Anders just shrugged. “If it’s any consolation Justice is even less thrilled with the idea than we are.” He wasn’t even certain Justice would come out to play.

“Look,” Said Anabel walking back to the couch to pick up a book that lay beside it. She flipped through the pages as she returned to Sebastian’s side, stopping when she’d found the section she wanted. 

_"The spirits grew jealous of the living and coaxed from them into the Fade when they slept._ ” She read. “ _The spirits wished to know more of life, hoping to find a way to regain the Maker's favor. Through the eyes of the living, they experienced new concepts: love, fear, pain, and hope. The spirits re-shaped the Fade to resemble the lives and concepts they saw, each spirit desperately trying to bring the most dreamers to their own realms so they could vicariously possess a spark of the divine through them. Demons are drawn to mages, though whether it is because of this awareness or simply by virtue of their magical power in our world is unknown_." She shut the book and gave him a triumphant look. "It’s what that demon Torpor said. They sense that spark. If Torpor sensed it why wouldn’t Justice have?” She looked at him expectantly.

“Have you lost your mind?” Sebastian asked.

She frowned. “You know, I really wish people would stop asking me that.”

“I think it’s a fair question considering you’re talking about consorting with a demon.” 

She saw Anders turn away and rest his hands on the desk in front of him. Damn it. She had had a hard enough time convincing Anders to agree in the first place. She turned back to Sebastian. “Justice isn’t a demon. He’s a spirit.” She said, correcting him.

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. “Justice is a spirit who left the Fade and is possessing a man here on Thedas. That makes him a demon.” He couldn’t believe she was even considering this after what had happened the last time she’d dealt directly with Justice. 

Anders spoke behind him. “It is demons who seek out those mortals who come to the Fade. It is they who draw sustenance from those memories. I am no demon.” His voice sounded deeper, and seemed to echo in the high ceiling of the library. “I did not come willingly to this world.” 

Sebastian saw Anabel stiffen at the sound. “Oh, crap.” She said under her breath. She lifted her eyes to Sebastian, and her expression was almost apologetic. “I don’t think you two have formally met. Sebastian, this is Justice.”

Sebastian’s heart began to thud in his chest. He turned slowly around not certain of what he would see. To his relief Justice appeared to look very much like Anders. There were strange lines of light running under his skin, making it seem to almost crackle and as he looked at him some sort of energy began swirling around him.

Sebastian couldn’t help the prayer that came to his lips.

Anders, or rather Justice looked straight at him, and Sebastian’s prayer faltered. Anders brown eyes were filled with swirling glowing blue light. There was nothing familiar or even human about them. “I am not a demon, priest. I am a spirit of Justice.”

“You crossed the Veil and you possess this man. I’ve always been told that it’s only demons that do such a thing.” Sebastian explained carefully.

“Only the darker spirits you call demons wish to come here. I did not willingly leave the Fade. I was trapped in this world, in a decaying corpse. Anders agreed to our joining. He was willing. Together we can do what could not be done alone. I am proud of what we will accomplish together.”

“You’re talking about helping the mages?” Said Sebastian.

“Yes. Your Chantry oppresses them.”

“The Chantry is following the teachings of the Maker.”

“It is wrong to oppress another. Mages are abused. Taken from their families. Made tranquil.” The crackling under his skin seemed to grow brighter, and move more quickly. 

“The way Circle is run needs to change, I agree. I’ve learned that since meeting and speaking with Anabel and Anders.”

Justice seemed to be placated by his words. The lights running through his skin, Anders’ skin, seemed to slow. “You have shown yourself to be an honorable man in spite of your association with the Chantry.” 

Anabel saw Sebastian start to protest, no doubt to defend the Chantry and she interrupted. “Why didn’t you simply return to the Fade when Kristoff’s corpse decayed?” She asked. 

Those strange lights immediately flared again as Justice turned to her. “Mortals come into the Fade all the time, but no spirit who has left has ever returned. I did not wish to die.”

Sebastian hadn’t thought spirits were concerned with such…earthly things. “Do spirits die as mortals do?”

Justice turned back to him. “Yes. Though we spirits know no more of it than you.”

“If they don’t return to the Fade then where do they go when they die?” Asked Sebastian.

“Some spirits believe there is a place beyond the Fade but we have no answers to such things any more than you do.” Justice admitted.

Anabel stared at the two of them. She had never seen Justice like this. Almost eager to talk. Trust Sebastian to bring out the best in him. 

“We believe that if we follow the Maker’s teachings we will return to his side.” Said Sebastian.

“The Maker.” Said Justice, as if considering the word. “In the Fade some spirits believe in a creator who gave us life and separated us from this world. But do they believe that only because they see the Maker in dreams of mortals? So much of the Fade is created by spirits desperate to emulate your kind.”

“You mean the spirits don’t know?” asked Sebastian. The idea went against the teachings of the Chantry. Or did it? Why should the spirits remember their creation anymore then mankind did? It was an uncomfortable thought. 

“Many do not care.” Justice explained. “Demons live in the moment. But those of us who seek something greater, we wonder.”

“Is it truly only the demons who try to enter this world?” Asked Sebastian.

“The demons lust to cross the veil. The rest of us scoffed. We pitied mortals. We did not envy them. We thought them beyond our reach or our help, and so we stayed away from them. It was only when I was trapped here that I learned…” His voice trailed off.

“What did you learn?” Prompted Sebastian gently after a moment.

He was speaking to the spirit as if he were someone who had come to the Chantry seeking aid, Anabel realized. The same way he’d spoken to her when she’d returned from the Deep Roads. It seemed as effective on Justice as it had been on her.

The look Justice gave him almost wistful. “We are wrong about this world. There is beauty here. The Mortals…they are worth saving.” 

“It must have been strange for you when you came here.” Said Sebastian sympathetically. 

“Spirits feel sorry for you mortals trapped as you are in this dismal place. That is what I believed as well. When I first came to this world, before Anders and I were joined, I did not understand why the demons were so eager to pass through the Veil. But this world was nothing like I thought it would be. It is not dismal at all, but most mortals do not see it.” 

From what Anabel and the others had told him, Sebastian hadn’t expected Justice to be anything like this. Reasonable. Eloquent. Thoughtful. Judging by the expression on Anabel’s face she shared his surprise. “See what?” He asked the spirit. 

Those strange swirling eyes turned to him. “A world so full of beauty that beauty itself goes overlooked. Nothing outlasts the creator in the Fade. Here everything does. There are fingerprints on top of fingerprints here.”

“That’s a little creepy, actually.” said Varric. 

Justice turned to face him. “It is beautiful. Everyone leaving their trace.” He explained. “Here you can be certain that what is has always been. Is that not comforting?” 

“But this world changes all the time.” Said Anabel with a frown.

The lights seemed to flare again. It was clear that Justice disliked Anabel, and Sebastian didn’t understand why. Given his own association with the Chantry he would have thought he himself would be the focus of the spirit’s ire, not Anabel who had done so much to help Anders. Justice positively scowled as he looked at her. “Events occur but they occur in context. You take the structure of your world for granted. Faith requires structure and belief. In the Fade we have neither.” He turned back to Sebastian. “You know this.”

“I have Faith.” Sebastian said not quite understanding.

“You are an honorable man though you serve the Chantry.”

“I wasn’t always.” Sebastian admitted.

“Neither was Anders. He had no purpose when I met him. He had seen oppression and was free. I told him he had a responsibility to his fellow mages. That he must act to free those who remain oppressed.”

“Or he could just mind his own business.” Said Varric.

Justice frowned at him. “That is not right. He has an obligation.” 

“I don't think the job of "renegade mage" has a bright future, not in Kirkwall anyway.” Varric pointed out. 

“My entire existence has been spent seeking out wrongs to right. This is a great injustice.”

Varric raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t do anything other than sit around the Fade and ponder what was just and unjust?” 

“It is not all I do. It does however define my being.”

“So you were born just? A little self-righteous baby crawling around the Fade?” Asked Varric. He seemed fascinated by the idea.

“I was not born. I simply am.” Justice turned away from the dwarf. 

“What the Tevinter magisters did to the Elvhen was an injustice as well. Do you remember that?” Anabel asked.

After a moment’s hesitation the spirit answered her. “Yes.” 

She stepped forward eagerly. “You remember when it happened? When the magisters stripped the Elvhen of the magic.”

“Yes.” He said, almost reluctantly.

“Was it only demons who felt the loss of so many mages?”

He paused longer this time. “No. All the spirits of the Fade felt it. All mourned.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“When we were in the Fade, Torpor said he remembered me. That he felt my loss. Was it true?”

The lights crackled and that energy swirled around him again. “I cannot speak for Torpor. He was a demon. Demons lie.”

This time it was Anabel who hesitated before asking. “Did you feel it?” 

He sighed. “It had been long since we felt that division. That cutting off. The Fade dimmed.”

“Did you feel it?” She asked again.

He turned away from her. “Yes.” He finally admitted.

“That first day I came to the clinic…did you recognize me the way Torpor did?”

He lifted his hand and rubbed his brow, and it was Ander’s gesture he borrowed. “Yes. You were so very bright in the Fade. It would be impossible not to remember you. Have you never wondered why so many demons are drawn to you?” 

The hair on the back of her neck rose and she gave a small shiver. “That’s just Kirkwall.” She said trying to shrug it off. 

“You came to be in Kirkwall.” Justice told her.

She frowned. “Are you saying I was ‘brighter’ because I was conceived here?”

“The veil is thin here.”

She waited for a further explanation but it wasn’t forthcoming.

And then for the first time in the conversation he volunteered information. “You glow brighter since the Deep Roads. They feel your glow. Anders feels your glow.” 

She swallowed hard. “Am I becoming a mage?” 

“You are a mage.” He didn't elaborate.

She rolled her eyes, wondering if all spirits were this unhelpful.

“The staff is yours.” Justice said suddenly.

Her eyes went to the staff Da had made that Anders had been using all these years. “It was my father’s but I gave it to Anders.” She clarified.

“It is yours. He made it for you should you need it. A staff designed to combat any spirits who might be drawn to you.” 

She thought of all those evenings Da had worked on that staff, sitting in front of the fire long into the night, and she felt a lump in her throat. Was that true? 

“I have told Anders you are a danger to us.” Justice’s statement interrupted her memories.

She blinked at him. “You’re kidding.”

He turned to look at her, with those strange swirling glowing eyes. “I do not kid.”

“Why on Thedas would I be a danger to him?”

“You brought back a magic we thought lost. A magic that would keep mages from the Fade. That would isolate us from mortals.”

“I’ve hardly brought it back. I don’t know anything about it. And I have no idea how this was done to me.”

“The magic of what was done to you is within you. A skilled mage would be able to find it.” 

“A mage able to work out a spell just from the results? I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

“Mages here are shackled. Imprisoned. There are others who would know. Those who knew before.”

“You mean the magisters in Tevinter?” Sebastian asked.

“Yes. The magic cannot be rediscovered. It would undo everything Anders and I are working to accomplish.”

“And that’s the reason I’m a danger to Anders?” Anabel exclaimed. “Because if I happen to run into an incredibly skilled Tevinter magister who just happens to know about this obscure lost magic he might be able to figure out how to recreate the spell?” 

“No, not just that.” Justice turned and walked slowly toward Anabel and it took every ounce of self-control for Sebastian to not place himself between them. He did move to stand behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders, and though her face showed no fear she took a step back so she was pressed up against him. 

Justice stopped in front of them, looking at them both. “You love this man and he loves you. Anders envies this love. But envy is what a demon feels. A desire for something it cannot have. You are a danger to us.” 

“Demons are spirits perverted by their desires.” Said Sebastian. He’d known how Anders felt about Anabel, had known the man was jealous. He hadn’t thought it might have an effect on Justice.

The glowing eyes looked up at him. “Yes.” 

Anabel looked back and forth between the two. “But that’s ridiculous. Anders doesn’t ‘desire’ me.”

“Anders' desire for you has been a part of him since he kissed you in the Deep Roads.” 

Sebastian’s hands tightened on her shoulders at the demon's words. She felt herself blush at the memory and stuttered. “No. He only did that as a favor for me.” 

“You are a distraction.” Said Justice, and that strange energy swirled around him. “You keep him from his purpose. Our purpose was clear before you. Anders knew the injustice mages suffer. He was willing to act. But you came and your world is clouded with shades of grey.” There were so many lines of light running under Anders skin that it almost appeared to be splitting.

Sebastian moved to step between them but before he could, Anabel, instead of backing away as any sensible person would have, stepped forwards, actually poking a finger into his chest. “Because nothing is black and white in this world, Justice. You can’t say Templars are evil and mages are good. It’s not that simple. If I’ve made him remember that, if I’ve kept him from acting in haste then I’m glad.”

“You will not keep us from our purpose.” Justice roared at her. He pulled back his arm; to cast a spell or strike her, Sebastian wasn’t sure. He moved forward, hearing the sound of Varric priming Bianca, but before either of them could act, Justice fell to his knees, his hands groping in front of him, as if reaching for something they couldn't see. “No.” He snarled before falling forward onto his hands. The cracks disappeared, and the light and the energy dissipated. He stayed there on all fours, his breath harsh in the sudden silence.

Before Sebastian could stop her Anabel had dropped to her knees beside him and had an arm around his heaving shoulders. “Anders?”

Anders lifted his head, and looked at Sebastian, his eyes their normal amber brown. The two men stared at each other for just a moment, but that moment was all it took for the alliance they’d formed during Anabel’s illness and recovery to disintegrate completely. Sebastian knew for a fact how Anders felt about Anabel, and knew Justice’s fear of what that might do to them. Neither of them could pretend otherwise now.

Anders pulled free of Anabel’s arm, and stood. “You got what you wanted. A conversation with Justice.” He said his voice shaky. He crossed the room and gathered the papers he’d been writing and picked up the staff from where it leaned against the wall. “I wouldn’t recommend trying it again. I might not be able to stop him a third time.” Without another word he turned and left them standing there, staring after him. 

Anabel didn’t see him again for more than a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of Justice's dialog is taken directly from Dragon Age: Awakenings. I can't help thinking that if Justice had met Sebastian before he and Anders merged, and Vengeance began to take over that they would have liked each other. As this chapter takes place only 3-4 years into the game I carried the idea into this chapter. My personal head canon is that the transition from Justice into Vengeance is a slow one, and Justice isn't completely Vengeance until the end of Act III which is some three years away at this point in the story.
> 
> I've added more pictures and Dragon Age related things to my tumblr: [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	4. So Many Places to Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anabel and Sebastian realize some mistaken assumptions they've recently made, and work to correct them.

For the next few days Anabel was unusually quiet. She seemed to have forgotten entirely about her desire to talk with Marethari; indeed she didn’t mention it at all. It was as if Brother Plinth had never given her that book. Sebastian was relieved at first, but as one week stretched into two with no mention of it at all, he started to worry that what had happened with Justice and Anders had affected her far more than she was admitting.

When they hadn’t heard anything from Anders by the day after the fiasco of their talk with Justice, she had asked Varric to check on him, sending him down to the clinic with a jar of jam. Sebastian had thought that strange, but he hadn’t questioned it. Varric had returned a short time later with the news that Anders had left and put Annalise in charge of the clinic for now. Annalise wouldn’t tell Varric where Anders had gone. Varric wasn’t even certain that she actually knew.

“He’ll be back.” Anabel said firmly, staring at the jar of jam Varric had handed back to her when he’d returned. 

Varric and Sebastian exchanged a worried look. “Hawke…” said Varric.

She didn’t look at either of them. “I’m a little tired. Would you mind if I went upstairs and rested?” 

Sebastian’s eyes were kind. “Of course not. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

She left them without another word and went upstairs, still holding the jam. 

She was far quieter than usual in the days that followed and far more subdued. 

Sebastian didn’t push her to talk about it, at first because he didn’t trust himself to remain calm while speaking of the subject. The transformation of the spirit from Justice to Vengeance had been so sudden, so violent and so … undeniable. That Anabel had been that catalyst for it was undeniable as well.

He shuddered when he thought of how recklessly she’d confronted the spirit, shouting at him and poking him in the chest as if he were one of the drunken louts at The Hanged Man who’d gotten out of hand. Her belief that Anders would never harm her had resulted in an entirely unfounded certainty that whatever that spirit was that lived inside the mage, it wouldn’t hurt her either. 

Sebastian didn’t share her confidence. A part of him was relieved that Anders had left, though another part of him worried about what havoc Justice might be wreaking wherever he, or rather they, had gone. 

And then there was that small, entirely selfish part of him that wondered what Justice had been talking about, that wondered just what had happened between Anders and Anabel all those years ago in the Deep Roads. The longer she stayed so quiet and withdrawn, the more he speculated about it. The more he worried about it. The more it bothered him.

A certain distance had sprung up between them since the mage had left. Sebastian still arrived early in the morning, and stayed late into the evening. They still enjoyed each other’s company, but those small touches, those soft caresses and gentle kisses that they’d begun to share so naturally had almost disappeared. He wasn’t quite certain which of them was responsible for that, but he had been surprised by just how much he missed them. He couldn’t stop thinking about them, which invariably led him to think about what kisses she might have shared with Anders, and what else she might have shared with him in the Deep Roads. 

It was foolish to worry about it. Whatever it was, nothing had come of it. Justice had mentioned only a kiss, nothing more than that, and it had happened years ago. To be jealous was pointless and more than a little hypocritical. Sebastian couldn’t even recall the names of his many bed partners; if he were honest he couldn’t even recall most of their faces. 

And even if Anders and Anabel had been intimate… 

He looked up from the correspondence he hadn’t touched for a quarter of an hour and glanced over at Anabel. She sat on the sofa leaning against some piled up cushions, with her bare feet stretched out in front of her, and a book open on her lap, though she wasn’t reading it. She was staring pensively into the fire. 

Was she thinking of Anders? Sebastian wasn’t certain he wanted to know. 

Even if she had been intimate with the mage, he had no right to fault her because of it. No cause to be jealous. No justification to resent not being the first. 

No justification at all. And yet the jealousy was there.

Virginity had never mattered in the slightest to him. Innocence had been a bore. Why on Thedas would it matter now?

He frowned as he tried to reason it out, and the frown deepened as he realized that reason in fact had nothing to do with it. He wanted to be the first. Her first lover. Her only lover. It was a primal, primitive reaction, not reasonable at all. He wanted Anabel to be his; his, and no one else’s, past, present and future. He wanted to shout it to the world. To mark her as his in some barbaric way that would show anyone who saw her that she was his. 

Suddenly uncomfortable in the elegant grey doublet he wore, he shrugged out of it. It was too warm and too tight, far too restricting. The loose linen shirt he wore beneath was much more comfortable. He felt like he could breathe now. Now he would be able to think more clearly.

His reaction worried him. It brought back too many memories of the way he used to be, ruled solely by his passions. It made him worry he would become that person again, that he would sink back into that careless depravity.

That he would take her with him.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“Are you all right?” Anabel’s voice interrupted his thoughts. That caramel rich voice. Sweet and low and seductive, without any effort or artifice. He didn’t think she was aware of the effect her voice had on people.

On him.

He shifted in his chair and angled his head slightly to one side as he considered her. She had on a worn pair of black leggings and was enveloped by one of Carver’s old shirts that reached almost to her knees. She’d worn some variation of the same clothes since Anders had left. She wore the same sort of outfit whenever she was upset, he realized, found some sort of reassurance in them. Her hair had been tied back with a simple black ribbon when he’d arrived, but she’d taken it out to mark the page of her book and now her hair fell down her back in riotous curls. As she spoke she reached up to tuck it behind her ears. She looked far younger than she was, and nothing like a Hightown noblewoman.

She looked, in fact, like a ragamuffin, like a child, like she should be running around in a yard with all the other children. There was absolutely no reason she should have looked as enticing as she did. 

But the truth was, she looked beautiful. He had never wanted anyone more. Oh, he loved everything about her; her spirit, her fearlessness, her laughter, her positively brilliant mind, but on a purely physical level, he had never come close to wanting anyone the way he wanted Anabel Hawke.

A worried frown creased her brow when he failed to answer. “Sebastian?” He’d looked positively grim since he’d suddenly yanked his doublet off and thrown it on the desk, right on top of the work he’d brought from the Chantry.

He smiled at her then, and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I was lost in my thoughts.”

She was fairly certain she knew what he was thinking about. He’d been so quiet lately, so distant since Justice had had his little tantrum and Anders had run off (and Maker’s tits, she was going to let him hear about that when he got back). She couldn’t blame Sebastian. Justice in full Vengeance mode was intimidating to say the least. She couldn’t blame Sebastian in the least for wanting to step back from her. From them. The way things had been going between them before all this, she’d thought maybe he’d been coming to a decision about the two of them. Those kisses and gentle touches had been increasing, in both number and intensity, at least until Justice’s appearance, but since then they’d all but disappeared, and she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to hear him say why. She was fairly confident she knew already. He’d decided they couldn’t have a relationship and they were better off in a purely companionable sort of relationship and just didn’t want to hurt her by telling her. _Stop being so cowardly_ , she told herself. _Surely it’s better to know if he’s decided against being with you than to sit here moping about it the way you have been. Just talk to him_. Before she could change her mind, she commented casually. “They didn’t seem like terribly happy thoughts. Are you sure you’re all right?” 

He was about to say yes, to tell her everything was fine, to lie, when something he had read in his devotions a few evenings earlier came to mind: _The highest compact we can make with our fellows is: Let there be truth between us two forevermore_.

 _Let there be truth between us_. It was what Elthina had said to him. If he had any hope of a life with Anabel there could be no lies, no deceptions.

He got to his feet and crossed the room to sit beside her, lifting her feet and letting them rest on his lap. “It’s foolish.” He admitted. Almost absent-mindedly his hand curved around her foot, as small and delicate and perfect as the rest of her. His thumb brushed along the top of it. “I was thinking about what Justice said.”

She scowled and closed the book in her lap. It was what she had thought. “Ah, Justice. He seems to be able to make anyone frown. Which part of what he said?” Fucking Justice, determined to cockblock her with anyone apparently. 

“That Anders had desired you since he’d kissed you in the Deep Roads.” 

She sat up straight. That was what he’d been wondering about? She couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing. “Oh.” She said softly. She glanced over at him and found him watching her carefully. She blushed and immediately looked away. “I don’t think it’s true. Spirits aren’t very good at judging human emotions. Justice in particular.” She leaned down and put the book on the floor beside her. She straightened up and still couldn't meet his eye.

Did she truly not know? Or was she willfully ignoring it? “Actually I wasn’t thinking about whether or not he desires you.” He had known the answer to that question since the first time he saw Anders, since the first time he saw the expression on the mage’s face when he healed her. “He said Anders kissed you, and you said he had done it as a favor for you.” Sebastian said, watching her face carefully.

She blushed even pinker. “Oh. That. Yes.” She looked down at her hands. Maker’s balls, Justice was a blabbermouth. She’d forgotten she’d said that.

She looked so uncomfortable that he took pity on her. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.” A lie right there. “No.” He corrected. “That isn’t entirely true.”

She looked up at him, puzzled by his wavering uncertainty. 

He was staring at the fire. “The truth is…” His voice trailed off before he seemed to steel himself. _Let there be truth between us_. He turned to face her. “The simple truth is that I’m jealous. I’m jealous that Anders kissed you all those years ago. I’m jealous that you asked him to kiss you all those years ago. This is what you do to me, Anabel Hawke.” He said shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m reduced to a jealous, possessive fool merely from hearing that you once asked someone else to kiss you, and I would ask that you tell me what happened if only to stop the wild speculation going on in my head.”

She couldn’t help feeling pleased. “You’re jealous?” 

“Yes." He admitted with a wry smile. "As jealous as a schoolboy with his first crush.” 

For the first time in days her dimple appeared at the corner of her mouth. She leaned forward to gently stroke the side of his face and he caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the palm, astounded by how much he had missed the smallest touches from her. 

She leaned back against the pillows trying to decide how best to explain it. “It’s not anything like what you think.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth, and then laughed. “It’s a little embarrassing. More than a little, actually. I come off quite pathetically.” She took a deep breath. “Before I went to the Deep Roads I’d only ever been kissed once, by a boy named Alfie Barlin.”

He stared at her. Could that be true? It must be. He couldn’t think of any reason that she would make it up. “Was he any relation to Old Man Barlin whose scarecrow you stole?”

She blinked in surprise. “I can’t believe you remembered that. Yes. Alfie was his oldest boy. I was sixteen. I think Alfie was actually younger, but he towered over me.” She smiled suddenly. “Well, I suppose most people do. Carver and I had gone into town for supplies. Da had only just died and Alfie took me behind his father’s shop and told me how sorry he was about Da and then he sort of lunged at me and kissed me. Just mashed his mouth down on top of mine and kept it plastered there all slobbery and smelling of onions.” She gave him a wry smile. “And that was my first kiss. It culminated in his slipping his hand under my shirt and into my breastband and my breaking his nose.”

Sebastian couldn’t help laughing. “I’m sorry, Anabel. I don’t mean to make fun.”

She gave a small smile before turning to gaze at the fire again. “No, it’s all right. I can see the humor.” It was a few seconds before she spoke again. “As it turned out he’d done it on a bet. On a dare, actually. I felt a perfect fool. I didn’t tell anyone about that for the longest time, about that or the kiss. Carver didn’t even know about it until we came to Kirkwall. Alfie didn’t tell anyone either, thank Andraste. That would have been… just awful. He told everyone his nose had been broken when his donkey kicked him.” 

He stared at her, no longer laughing. He was appalled that that should have been her first kiss.

She was staring into the fireplace but after a moment she broke free of the memory and turned back to him. “When we were in the Deep Roads and didn’t know if we would make it out alive, I lost it one day. Carver had said something stupid and I just freaked out and stormed off down one of the tunnels. It was such a careless, idiotic thing to do, running off like that. Anders followed me to make sure I was safe and when I burst into tears he held me and let me cry myself out. We’d been lost for days. We were almost out of food and water. We didn’t know how far below the surface we were or if we would ever find our way out, and instead of worrying about that, all I could think of was I only twenty-one, and a virgin and that I was going to die without even having been decently kissed.” She shook her head at her own foolishness.

“I’m so sorry.” Sebastian said. 

Her eyes twinkled when she looked over at him. “About my being trapped in the Deep Roads, or that I got my first kiss from Alfie Barlin?”

“Both I think.” He said with a warm smile. “So you asked Anders to kiss you?” 

“Yes. It seemed to make sense at the time. I mean I knew he cared about me. I knew he wasn’t physically repulsed by me. And I knew from stories I’d heard that he had a certain amount of experience and would know what he was doing.” 

“And he agreed?” Of course he did. He probably leapt at the chance.

“Eventually, yes. It took some persuading on my part. He didn’t just pounce on me or anything like that. He wasn’t overwhelmed by desire or passion or anything. He truly did it as a favor to me, just because I asked him. It was sweet and tender and gentle, but it was passionate too. It was what I had hoped a first kiss would be when I was sixteen and Alfie Barlow so thoroughly disillusioned me.” She said with a wistful smile.

Sebastian had never envied Anders up until now. He’d been jealous of him, worried about the place he held in Anabel’s affections, yes, but he hadn’t envied him. More than anything he wanted to have been the one to give her that kiss.

Anabel frowned when she saw the expression on his face. “I’m sorry. Is it horribly bad form to tell you about all this?”

He didn’t understand. “Bad form?”

“To tell the person you’re currently kissing about previous kisses.”

He smiled at the description, and then shook his head. “Not at all. I did ask. I’d like to thrash young Barlin for that first kiss though.” His hand, which had remained still while she told the story, resumed stroking her foot. 

She smiled and shook her head. “I was so worried for years that something was wrong with me because of that kiss. That it had been my fault it was awful. I was frightened of kissing anyone else, not that people were lining up or anything. I thought maybe every kiss I ever got would feel like that. That I was just hopeless at it.” 

His eyes lingered on her mouth just long enough that her cheeks turned pink. He shifted slightly on the sofa so that he was facing her, and taking her foot in both his hands, massaged it gently, running his thumbs along the high arch. “On the contrary. I think you show a remarkable talent for it.” He wondered how he never noticed how perfect her feet were before now. Probably because she was so rarely still enough for him to get a good look at them. 

“Do you really think so?” She asked, more than a little distracted by what he was doing with his hands.

“I do.” She was such a tiny thing. Her foot was smaller than his hand, delicate and as fine boned as the rest of her. Letting it rest against his palm, he ran his thumb firmly along the top.

She leaned back against the cushions and closed her eyes, savoring the touch, not quite understanding how just his hand on her foot seemed to make her whole body feel liquid. If his hands felt this way on her foot, how amazing would it feel if they were to wander elsewhere? 

He watched the expression on her face. Her lips slightly parted and her breath was coming just a little bit faster. But was she thinking of him or of Anders and that kiss they had shared? He was still jealous of the man, he realized. As reasonable as her explanation had been, he was still jealous. “So my kiss on the Wounded Coast that day was your third kiss.” He said, interrupting her reverie. 

Her eyes slowly opened. They seemed bluer than usual. They changed color sometimes, more green when she was sad or upset, more blue when she was happy. What color would they be when she was aroused, he wondered. Would they be bluer still when he made her cry out her pleasure?

She blinked, her long dark lashes brushing against her cheeks. “Yes.” She said more than a little embarrassed that it was true. “It must have shown. I mean you must have been able to tell I didn’t know what I was doing.”

All he had thought was how sweet she had tasted and how soft her lips were. “Not exactly. When you didn’t respond immediately I thought I’d embarrassed or possibly angered you.”

She laughed. “No, I just didn’t know what I was supposed to do.”

There was a sudden heat in his blue eyes. “You learned remarkably quickly.”

Her heart began to beat faster, just from that look. ‘I’m not sure what happened. You made me want more. And I…” Her eyes suddenly dropped to her hands again.

“You what?” He prompted.

“I just took what I wanted. Did what I wanted. I’d never felt like doing that before. It was the first time I needed more from a kiss. I didn’t even know quite what it was I needed.” She looked up at him and her expression was accusing. “You gave me a taste of how amazing a kiss could be and then you just stopped. I thought at first it hadn’t affected you the same way.” 

His lips curved into a smile. It was a different sort of smile, not the calm and easy one he usually wore. This one teased. It had heat and promise. “It was one of the most difficult things I ever did. I hadn’t expected to react that way and I certainly hadn’t expected you to respond like that.”

She tilted her head and ran her tongue nervously along her bottom lip. “Did you truly kiss me just to get rid of my hiccups?”

That heat in his eyes flared again. “No.” He leaned forward and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but to her surprise he lifted her foot to his mouth instead, one hand on her heel, and the other beneath the arch. He pressed his lips against it just below her toes. “You’d awakened something in me. I wanted to know what you tasted like.” His breath was hot on her skin when he spoke, before he kissed her foot again. She couldn’t help squirming a little when he did. “The hiccups were all the excuse I needed to act on the impulse.”

“But you didn’t kiss me again. Not until that night Isabela taught me that dance.” His lips felt so warm. He brushed his tongue lightly along her skin, at the base of her toes, and it was even warmer than his lips, almost hot against her skin. Her breath hitched. Why in Andraste’s name was that so erotic? Feet weren’t supposed to be erotic, were they? 

“I’d managed to resist you until then.” He said almost absently. He ran his thumb along where his tongue had just stroked, not taking his gaze from her foot. “When I saw you dancing like that in that shirt that barely covered any of you, when I saw Isabela caressing you the way I wanted to, I couldn’t resist any longer. I wanted more. I wanted so much more.” He turned her foot slightly and pressed his mouth along the arch, moving along the length of it, almost nibbling his way. He wondered fleetingly if perhaps he was carrying his honesty a bit too far, but found he didn’t seem to care and returned his full attention back to her foot. When his mouth reached the highest point of that delicate arch he suddenly bit lightly, curious if she would make the same noise as she had the other day.

She didn’t disappoint, letting out a sound that was part breathy moan and part low pitched cry. She looked at him suddenly unable to breathe properly “I don’t understand.” She said when she could manage to speak.

He dragged his teeth along her instep, and the bit again on the fleshy part of the ball of her foot. Again that sound. His mouth curved into a smile at the sound. “Don’t understand what, Ana?” He asked innocently.

She tried to speak, failed, and then tried again. “Why does that feel so good? Feet aren’t supposed to make you feel like that, are they?”

“Like what?” He asked in a deceptively mild tone. Oh, he was going to enjoy teaching her.

“You know.” She’d caught glimpses of this Sebastian before, but just glimpses. The way he was watching her made her heart flutter nervously, but it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. Quite the contrary.

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m not certain I do know. Calm? Relaxed? Sleepy?” He sank his teeth into the skin just below her ankle and then ran his tongue along the spot, and her upper body arched off the sofa.

“Aroused. It makes me feel aroused.” She managed to gasp out. 

“Does it now?” His lips curved in a teasing smile. She wasn’t thinking of Anders now.

“You know it does.” She said, her voice low. There was a breathless, urgent note in it that he’d only had hints of before. Triumph flared through him. She wasn’t thinking of anyone but him now.

“Yes.” He agreed. “I do.” He eased her foot down, and looked at her lying back against the pillows, her lips parted, her breasts rising and falling beneath that thin cotton shirt as she breathed faster. He let his hand slide slowly up her calf. “I suppose in Isabela’s novels it’s all breasts and buttocks, before diving between the legs and finishing off?” He asked almost conversationally.

His fingers caressed the back of her knee through the worn fabric of her leggings, just the lightest of touches, but it made her actually squirm. _Holy…_ She managed to keep from making that sound again though she had to bite her lip to do so. “Pretty much.” She agreed when she could speak again. 

“I thought as much.” His heart was beating faster, just thinking of all the things he could show her. Teach her. “There are so many parts of the human body that respond to a caress, Anabel. Parts that most people wouldn’t even consider.” His hand vanished under the hem of her shirt and he lightly raked the tips of his fingers along the inside of her leg from mid-thigh back to her knee again. 

She couldn’t stop the sound from rushing out of her, higher pitched this time. She was breathing heavily. “Yes. I think I can see that now.” 

He arched an eyebrow. “Can you? I’m not certain.” 

Before she could reply he had reached across and grabbed her by the waist, making her squeal again, and pulled her between his legs as he slid to the opposite corner of the sofa. He put one foot, knee bent, on the sofa and let the other hang over the side, so his foot rested on the floor. Her back was against his chest, her head on his shoulder. Taking one of her hands between his, he put his mouth close to her ear. “There are so many places to touch, Ana.” He said softly, his breath hot against her skin. He opened her hand, and ran one finger lightly down it. “Places you wouldn’t think would excite.” He traced a circular design in the center of her palm.

She couldn't help the shiver that ran through her. 

“The palms of your hands.” He whispered. He brought her hand to his mouth and raked his teeth lightly against her wrist. “The pulse of your wrist.” He raised her arm so it was almost straight and the fabric of her shirt slid all the way down. He trailed his fingers down the sensitive skin of her inner arm until he reached the bend of her elbow. Turning his head, he pressed his mouth to the soft skin there and ran his tongue along it.

She whimpered and felt his mouth curve into a smile against her skin before he let her arm fall again. She didn’t know quite how they had gone so quickly from barely touching at all, to this, but she wasn’t about to question it. 

His hand came up and brushed her hair back from her neck. His teeth sank lightly into her earlobe. “Your ears.” His tongue flicked against that hollow just below her ear, and her breath drew in sharply. “That spot right there.” He said, and she could hear the triumph in his voice. His mouth continued down the side of her neck. 

“I found that spot before.” She murmured, leaning her head to the side to give him easier access. “When I licked you that night.” Some dim part of her noted how strange her voice sounded. Deep and throaty and hardly like hers at all. 

His hand, which had been toying with her curls, suddenly tightened, pulling her head back so he could look at her and she gasped in surprise. His blue eyes seemed almost to glow. His eyes traveled over her face. “Yes.” 

She suddenly couldn’t seem to breathe properly. “You liked it.” She said. 

He nodded slowly. “Yes. I did.” He seemed to have gone very still. 

She ran her tongue over her lips and saw how his eyes followed the movement. “You slammed me up against a wall.” She reminded him. His hand was still tight in her hair and she couldn’t move her head, but for the first time she felt as if she had gained the advantage. 

He remembered all too well. “Yes.” 

“You wanted me.” She said with complete certainty. 

He looked at her eyes, and if he’d been asked at that moment, he’d have said they were a deep dark blue, not green at all. He couldn’t speak so he nodded. 

She smiled, the heady smile of a woman who knows she’s desired. “You wanted to have me. Right there.” There was just a hint of taunting in her voice, and something flashed in his eyes. Just a hint of danger. It made things tighten low in her body. 

He nodded again, more slowly this time. “Yes.” 

There was something in his voice she hadn’t heard before. Something low and dark and exciting beyond belief. She wanted to hear it again. “You wanted to take me, right there, against the wall in a Lowtown alley. You thought about doing it.” 

He suddenly pulled her hair again, harder this time, yanking her head back and causing her whole body to arch and she gave a small cry. Not because it hurt though. Her head slid almost to the crook of his arm and she stared up at him. Her heart was pounding in her throat. 

“Be careful, Anabel.” He warned her. “You should be very careful when you play with something new and unknown.” 

Oh, she liked the sound of his voice like that. She didn’t think she wanted to be careful. “Kiss me.” She ordered him. “You haven’t kissed me in days.” 

He smiled, and in an instant he’d moved, turned both of them, and he was on top of her lying between her spread legs, her wrists held firmly by her head, pressed into the cushions of the couch. His mouth was inches from hers. They were both breathing hard now. 

“I always forget you’re a rogue.” She whispered. 

“You shouldn’t.” He said, and brought his mouth down on hers. 

Perhaps he was still thinking about the night when he’d slammed her up against that brick wall in Lowtown, because for the first time since then, there was nothing at all gentle about his kiss. It was rough and hard, with biting teeth and tongues thrust deep into each other’s mouths. She want to grab him and pull him close but as hard as she struggled to free her hands he kept them pinned firmly by her head, so instead she wrapped her legs around him and locked them there, holding him in place as much as his hands on her wrists held her. 

_Maker have mercy_ , he thought as she met every touch, every bite, every taste with a passion more than equal to his own. She was positively writhing against him, tightening her legs around his waist as if she needed him closer still. Thankfully, the difference in their heights prevented her from rubbing directly against him: he was so hard right now that he thought even the slightest pressure might send him over the edge. That one small part of his brain that still had any claim to sanity realized he needed to stop, to control himself before he ended up making love to her here, on the floor of her library when anyone might walk in. He released his grip on her wrists, and tried to pull back and she made a small sound of protest. Grabbing hold of his shirt she pulled him towards her catching his lower lip between her teeth, biting again, but hard enough that she broke the skin, and this time he was the one who couldn’t keep from making a noise. 

She released his lip immediately, blinking in surprise and then saw the blood on his lip. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” 

He let go of her wrists, and pulled back, sitting upright, one leg bent beneath him and one on the floor. He touched his tongue to the bite mark and then his fingers and looked in surprise at the blood on them. She was immediately in front of him, blotting his lip with the sleeve of her shirt. She looked so horrified by what she'd done that he couldn’t help laughing. 

She frowned at him. “It’s not funny.” She insisted. “Hold still.” 

“It’s fine Anabel.” He said trying to duck out of her reach. 

“Hold still! It’s not fine. I bit you. I drew blood! Stop laughing.” She said, giving him a push. 

It unbalanced him just enough that he slipped off the couch landing on the floor beside it, and laughing even harder. 

She didn’t hesitate, just climbed down on top of him, straddling his chest, still blotting at his lip. 

He had worried when he kissed her so roughly that it would be too rough, that he would scare her or hurt her but instead she had met him more than halfway, and it had been she who left a mark on him. She was amazing. Absolutely perfect, and he didn't know how he had survived so long without her.

She was still frowning, still pressing her shirt to his mouth. He slid his arms around her and pulled her down so she lay on his chest. “You’re beautiful.” 

She shook her head. “I’m a beast. A complete barbarian.” 

He smoothed her hair back from her face. “You’re magnificent.” 

“I hurt you.” She said softly. 

He ran his hands down her back to that perfect curve of her behind. “So kiss it better.” 

She flashed her dimple at him. “I could do that.” She pushed herself upright and reaching behind her, took his hands, interlacing her fingers with his and then pushing his hands back to the floor so their earlier positions were almost reversed. She leaned down and ran her tongue lightly along his lower lip and then kissed it gently. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” She whispered. 

“I’m not.” He said. “Kiss me again.” 

She did as he asked, and this time it was soft and gentle, but no less passionate. 

“Oh, for the Maker’s sake…Anabel Esme Hawke, what on Thedas are you doing?” 

Anabel broke the kiss and turned to see Aveline standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, looking positively appalled. She couldn’t help the throaty giggle. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m kissing Sebastian.” 

“Andraste’s sake, Hawke. Let him go. You can’t pounce on people like that, especially people who are too well mannered to protest.”

Hawke laughed as she looked down at Sebastian. “Did I pounce on you?” 

"Indeed you did.” 

"And is it just good manners keeping you here?” 

"The Guard Captain is never wrong.” 

"I suppose I’d better let you up then.” With a smile and another quick kiss, she released his hands and climbed off of him, pushing herself to her feet. It was only then she realized that Donnic was there as well. “Hello Donnic. I didn’t see you there. Sorry about all that on the floor. I’d bitten Sebastian and I needed to kiss it better.” She explained with a perfectly straight face. 

Donnic looked at Aveline, obviously unsure how to respond. 

"Ignore her.” Aveline advised. 

“Guard Captain. To what do I owe this pleasure? Surely you didn’t come by just to ignore me.” 

They looked strange, and for a moment Anabel couldn’t figure out why and then she realized; neither of them was wearing armor. 

Aveline opened her mouth to speak but before she could utter a word Anabel had interrupted. 

"Wait, what’s that?”

Aveline frowned. “What’s what?” 

“That, on your hand.” She grabbed Aveline’s hand. She wore a signet ring that Anabel had never seen before. When she looked up at her, the Guard Captain actually blushed. 

Anabel looked at Donnic who was smiling as if he were about to burst with happiness. 

“You’re engaged?” She looked back at Aveline who wore her own smile now. “You’re engaged!” She squealed, flinging her arms around Aveline and squeezing her before running to Donnic and hugging him just as enthusiastically. “They’re engaged!” She told Sebastian. 

"So I heard.” Said Sebastian smiling at obvious pleasure she took in her friend’s happiness. He crossed the room and offered Donnic his hand. “Congratulations. May I?” He asked gesturing to Aveline. 

Donnic gave one of his easy smiles. “I’m not the one to ask Serah.” 

Sebastian couldn’t help smiling in return. They were well paired indeed. He turned to Aveline. “May I offer my congratulations Guard Captain?” He asked and when she didn’t object he leaned forward a gently kissed her cheek. “May you have a long and happy union.” 

“When’s the wedding?” Asked Anabel, all but jumping up and down. “Where’s the wedding?” 

"It’s just going to be a quiet affair in a month or two.” Aveline explained. “But I wanted to ask you to be one of the witnesses.” 

Anabel looked outraged. “Bullshit!” She exclaimed. 

“Hawke.” Aveline cautioned. 

“A quiet affair? With all the guard wanting to cheer you two on, and all our friends? No. Absolutely not. You’ll have it here. In the Spring. When the garden is all full of blooming things.” She turned to Sebastian. “When is that?” Before he could answer she’d turned back to Aveline and Donnic. “And then a dinner. And dancing. I’m paying for all of it, it’s my wedding gift.” Aveline opened her mouth to protest and she cut her off. “Don’t even try and argue, Aveline. You know I’m far more stubborn than you are. You’ll never win.” She continued talking about the wedding quizzing them about plans and food and flowers until they both looked quite dazed. 

Sebastian watched her with a smile on his face. 

She needed to heal. There was Aveline’s wedding now, Anabel wouldn’t want to take away from that. He had to meet again with Lord Maclaren and some of the other Starkhaven nobles. And he needed to talk with Elthina and work out the details. It might not be the right thing or the fair thing to do, but he didn’t want to wait any longer for a life with Anabel Hawke. By the end of the summer, he thought. He would ask her then. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what happened in this chapter. I sat down intending to write a little transitional bit before an important plot forwarding section and Sebastian just went completely out of control. I think he and Anabel have had enough of chastity and this was their way of letting me know.
> 
> The quote from Sebastian's "devotions" is actually a Ralph Waldo Emerson quote.
> 
> The kiss mentioned takes place in this story: [The Best Cure for Hiccups](http://archiveofourown.org/works/545663)
> 
> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	5. Sparring with a Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders returns to Kirkwall, and Anabel works to get back into shape, with some help from Sebastian.

Anders walked back into the clinic expecting things to be in a shambles. Instead he found it well stocked, shelves full, and each cot seemed to have clean warm blankets. There was a pile of wood for fuel neatly stacked in the corner.

“The Champion.” Annalise explained after she’d greeted him and cuffed the back of his head to let him know she didn’t approve of his having stayed away so long. “She’s made sure we had everything we needed. Comes down every day almost since you left.“

Anders frowned, torn between worrying that Hawke wasn’t yet well enough to be trekking down here every day, and wondering why she would and what it was going to take for her to finally come to her senses and abandon him as a lost cause.

“And every day when she sees you’re not here, her face falls.” Said Annalise, pointedly. “You’ve been a fool about that girl.”

“Don’t.” Anders warned.

“If you had made your move two or three years ago Sebastian Vael wouldn’t have stood a chance. Now…”

At tight knot clenched deep in his stomach. “What have you heard?” He didn’t want to ask, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Annelise bent her gray head over the bandages she’d been rolling not looking at him. “An announcement of their engagement is expected sooner rather than later.”

Anders jaw clenched. “Is that gossip, or did she tell you that?”

Annalise was looking past him. “Maybe you should ask her yourself.” She suggested.

He turned to see Hawke coming into the clinic, clad in an old pair of dark blue leathers that he remembered from years before. She stopped to joke with a couple of urchins who were playing by the door, slipping them a handful of cookies from the basket she carried. He had a minute to look at her unobserved and relief flooded through him. She was better. She’d put on weight, and her cheeks were pink, but more than that, she had that spark back. Compared to when he had left, she almost crackled with energy. She looked wonderful. More beautiful than ever.

And then she straightened up, still laughing, and tossing her long red curls, barely restrained by a bright turquoise scarf, back over her shoulder. She looked up and saw him. 

He braced himself, expecting her to be angry, to yell and to shout.

She stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, and then to his complete surprise her face crumpled. She let the basket she was holding drop to the ground and started walking towards him faster and faster until she was running so quickly that he barely had time to see the tears streaming down her face before she was in front of him, flinging her arms around his waist and sobbing into his chest.

His arms went immediately around her, comforting her, and he looked over her head at Annalise who gave him an _I told you so_ roll of the eyes before turning and walking away.

“What in Thedas are you crying about?” He muttered, stroking her back, utterly confused by the vehemence of her response.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to come back. I sent Varric down the very next day, with jam and everything, and you were just gone!” 

“I thought it was best.” He said.

She pulled back and shoved him hard, both hands against his chest. He was unprepared, and staggered back a step. “Well you’re an idiot.” She informed him. “Haven’t I lost enough people?” Without waiting for him to answer she clutched him close again, inhaling those familiar smells that seemed to permeate his clothes, smells that she loved at first because she’d associated with Da, but that now had just as strong an association with Anders. For some reason that realization made her cry even harder.

Anders put his arms around her, holding her. His hand came to rest on her bright curls. “It’s all right, Hawke. I’m back now.”

“It’s not all right.” She said into his coat, the words so muffled that he had to strain to hear them. “I’m at a very tricky point in my recovery you know. This could have sent me into a downward spiral and I wouldn’t even have had a healer to come and fix me. I wanted to start training again, and I didn’t know if I should. I’ve far too much marmalade in my house because there’s been no one there to eat it. And I missed you. And I hate marmalade.” She said with a hiccupping sob. 

He stroked her hair gently. “You are the most ridiculous girl.” But he couldn’t help but be pleased by her reaction. 

“I probably have brain damage that no one was here to heal.” She said, her face still buried in his chest.

He grinned over the top of her head. “No. I’m fairly certain you were always like this.”

She still didn’t let go of him. “You can’t just leave like that, not without saying anything. Promise me you won’t do that again.” She looked up at him, her lashes dark with tears. “Promise me.” She demanded.

He couldn’t help smiling. He brushed a tear off her cheek with his thumb. Maybe she did need him after all. “I promise. I won’t leave again. Not without letting you know.” 

 

If Sebastian was less than thrilled that Anders had returned he didn’t let it show. Spring finally arrived, and everyone seemed to be outside enjoying it. With Anders’ permission Anabel began training again, infuriated by how out of shape she was and impatient to change that as quickly as possible. 

To no one’s surprise, she ignored Anders’ cautions to take it slowly and ended up twisting her ankle when she attempted a series of flips that her injured hand wasn’t yet strong enough to support.

To her complete astonishment, Anders flat out refused to heal it.

She stared at him, outraged. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Anders straightened up from beside the couch where Sebastian had carried her after she injured herself. “No, I’m not, Hawke. Maybe this will teach to be more careful. You’ve only twisted it, but it’ll keep you off your feet and give you some time to think.”

She threw herself back against the pillows with a glare. “I’ve had months to think. I need to get back into shape.”

“Not for a week or so you don’t.” He said and walked out of the room, feeling quite pleased with himself. He deliberately stayed away for the next couple of days.

On the third day Sandal came hurrying into the clinic bearing a note which he handed to Anders.

  


_I fucking fell down the stairs and fucked up my other ankle. I hope you’re fucking happy._

__  
With a muttered curse he grabbed his staff and followed Sandal back up to Hawke’s mansion.

__She was on the couch in the library, cursing and complaining. Sebastian was crouched beside her holding her hand and making soothing noises._ _

__“You!” She shouted accusingly when she saw Anders. “If you had healed my ankle in the first place this would never have fucking happened.”_ _

He ignored the accusation and sat on the couch taking her foot carefully onto his lap. 

Ow.” She said with a whine.

"Oh stop being such a baby.” He knew from all the complaining and cursing that yes, she was in pain, but no it wasn’t too bad, not nearly bad enough for the fuss she was making. He frowned when he got a good look at it though. Blue and badly swollen. Maker’s balls. She hadn’t actually broken it had she? He let his magic pulse through it. No. A sprain. A bad one, but no broken bones. He looked up at her. “How did you even do this?” 

"I told you, I slipped coming down the fucking stairs is how.” She snapped. “Because someone wouldn’t heal my twisted ankle. Because he’s got to be all preachy and superior.” 

“Hush, Anabel.” Said Sebastian, his hand brushing the side of her cheek. “Anders was doing what he thought best.” 

"Anders was trying to teach me a lesson because he thinks he knows fucking everything.” She insisted, still scowling at Anders, but she reached up and took the Prince’s hand in hers and when he reached out with his other hand to stroke her hair, she leaned into his touch.

Anders tried not to let the pang of emotion their casual touching caused show on his face. “Weren’t you holding on to the bannister?” 

"Hop hop hop.” Said Sandal suddenly. “I like to hop.” 

__Anders would have dismissed it as one of Sandal’s odd non sequiturs if he hadn’t happened to glance at Anabel’s face._ _

__She looked as guilty as a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar._ _

__“Are you kidding me?” He asked her in disbelief. She suddenly wouldn’t meet his eye._ _

__Sebastian looked back and forth between them, not understanding what he was missing._ _

__“You were hopping down the stairs?” Anders accused._ _

__She glared at him. “I wasn’t hopping. I was going down them on one foot. It was quicker.”_ _

__“So. Hopping then.”_ _

__She lifted her chin defiantly. “Some might call it that, I suppose.”__

__Anders looked back at her ankle and then noticed her other foot, clad only in a woolen sock. The other sock lay discarded on the floor. “You were hopping down marble stairs in your stockinged feet?”_ _

__“My feet were cold. And my boots won’t go on over my swollen ankle. My other swollen ankle. And going down one step at a time is too slow.”_ _

__Anders looked at Sebastian to see what his opinion was about all this, and to his surprise found the prince was trying hard not to laugh. He suddenly had to look down to hide his own smile. He shook his head. “I give up, Hawke.” He said, and putting his hands on her ankle easily healed it. He reached for her other ankle and then glanced up at Sebastian. “Someone’s going to need to be with her. She’s obviously getting better. And she obviously hasn’t gained a lick of sense from everything she’s gone through.”_ _

__“Hey!” Hawke protested._ _

__“I’ll speak to the others." Said Sebastian. "Between all of us we should be able to keep her out of mischief.”_ _

__“You speak as though I’m a misbehaving toddler!” She said, outraged._ _

__“Not a toddler.” Sebastian said with a teasing glint in his eyes. “A child of at least seven or eight.”_ _

__She opened her mouth to deny it and then closed it._ _

__Anders eyebrows rose in surprise. “You’ve rendered her speechless.”_ _

__“Shut up.” Hawke told him politely. “Don’t either of you understand? I’m so bored. I’m bored and out of shape and I’ve lost all flexibility. I’m useless.”_ _

__“Which is precisely why you need to get back into shape slowly.” Anders hands briefly glowed blue and she rotated both her ankles with a pleased smile._ _

__“Thank you." She told him. "If you’d just done this the other day…” She started to say._ _

__“I’d have no doubt come in and found you swinging from the chandelier.” He said, interrupting her. He looked over at Sebastian. “Can you watch her today?”_ _

__“Of course.” Sebastian agreed. “And I believe Varric was coming by this evening. I’ll stop by Fenris’ on my way back to the Chantry and see if he can come by in the morning.”_ _

__“I’ll come back tomorrow afternoon.” Said Anders._ _

__She looked back and forth between them. “You’re truly serious about this? I have to have someone with me at all times? Do I have no say in this?”_ _

__“Not until you prove your trustworthiness.” Said Anders. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”_ _

__“I am twenty-three years old, you know. And the Champion of Kirkwall!” She shouted after him._ _

__“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, Champion.” He told her without turning around._ _

__Hawke flopped back against the cushions. She looked up at Sebastian to find him smiling indulgently at her._ _

__“I don’t want to go slowly.” She complained.__

He sat down beside her and pulled her into his lap. “I know.” He said soothingly. 

__She went willingly, sliding her arms around his neck. “I have no patience.” She confessed._ _

__“True.” He said leaning forward and kissing her gently._ _

__“I don’t know why you even like me.” She said when the kiss ended._ _

__“For too many reasons to list.” He said with a smile, kissing her again._ _

__“Do I really have to have someone babysitting me?” She asked._ _

__“It seems sensible given that you have no patience and don’t want to go slowly.”_ _

__Her lower lip jutted out and he had a sudden glimpse of what she must have looked like as a small child, pouting when some treat had been denied. He couldn’t resist catching that lip between his own, kissing her one more time. “It won’t be so bad Ana. I promise.”_ _

__

__And in truth it wasn’t. She went back to the simplest of stretches and training exercises, and gradually became stronger and more limber. And as she did it became more and more difficult for Sebastian to watch her train._ _

__The temperature grew warmer and Hawke switched from long sleeved shirts to small sleeveless camisoles of what seemed to him to be unnecessarily delicate cotton lawn. The sight of her bare arms and neck, and the tantalizing glimpses of the bare skin of her torso when she stretched would have been temptation enough, but then she would begin to perform some of her more acrobatic movements, and he had to look away and recite some of the gloomier verses of the Chant just to keep from stalking over to her and pulling her into his arms and…_ _

__He had never seen anyone so flexible in all his life. She would slide down into a split, and then shift so she faced forward and then bend so her torso was flat against the ground with her legs straight out and perpendicular to the rest of her. She would stand on her hands and then let her legs separate and seem to almost fall into another split, and then come upright again with as much ease as one would take to just step forwards. She seemed almost boneless, as if the Maker’s laws of movement didn’t apply to her._ _

__He couldn’t help but wonder how this amazing control she had over her body would translate to other actions, ones she was less familiar with but that he knew all too well._ _

__After that somewhat startling interlude in her library a few weeks before he’d stepped back a bit, determined to do things right, determined that when he finally made love to Anabel Hawke it was with the blessings of the Chantry and Andraste and the Maker. He wouldn’t give in before then. If he continued with his plan it would only be a few more months before he would wed her. Before he could be with her. He’d been celibate for thirteen years after all. He had thought it wouldn’t be a problem._ _

__He had been so wrong._ _

__Thinking it would be easier if he didn’t actually have to watch her in the privacy of her home, where there were doors with locks, and rooms with beds, he suggested to Aveline that she let Anabel practice at the Keep: that way Aveline could keep an eye on her and there would be more room for her to work, without the need to move furniture aside every time. Aveline agreed readily enough, and Fenris began practicing there as well. He and Anabel hadn’t yet resumed sparring together. Fenris wasn’t convinced that her reflexes were back to where they needed to be for him to start swinging his massive sword around, and nothing she could say convinced him otherwise._ _

__And so it was, Sebastian entered the training grounds on a balmy spring day to take Anabel to lunch, only to find her in the midst of a heated argument with Aveline._ _

__“No, Hawke. And that’s final. I’m not letting my guardsmen spar with you. If Fenris doesn’t think you’re well enough then neither do I.”_ _

__Sebastian looked over to where Fenris sat, silently tending to his weapon, watching Hawke and Aveline. Varric was beside him and scrawling notes on a piece of paper with a stub of a pencil. Giving them both a nod of greeting, he turned his attention back to the two women._ _

__Aveline and Donnic’s wedding was slightly less than a week away, which made it slightly more than a week since Aveline had thrown her hands up in the air and told Anabel to do whatever she wanted as long as she and Donnic were man and wife by the end of the evening and there was some decent brandy to drink.__

Sebastian suspected she was regretting that statement but was too proud and stubborn to admit it, but he knew Aveline well enough to know that she kept her work life and her personal life separate. If she was forbidding Anabel to spar it was because she had genuine concerns about her getting hurt. 

__She’d crossed her arms over her chest, and was giving Anabel a stern look, which Anabel was completely ignoring, glaring up at the larger woman, looking like a very angry kitten confronting a lioness. “Fenris fights with a ridiculously large two handed sword. I’m talking about sparring with tiny little daggers.” She said holding up her hand with the fingers inches apart._ _

__“And I’ve said no.” Said Aveline in a voice that would have cowed her guardsmen “Use one of the practice dummies.”_ _

__Anabel gave a snort of disgust. “I’m bored of doing drills by myself! I want something that fights back, someone who can respond to what I do. If Isabela were here she would spar with me.” She muttered sulkily. She turned back to the Guard Captain. “Surely a city as large as Kirkwall must have at least one or two guards who are capable of fighting with daggers.”_ _

__Aveline’s nostrils flared at the implication, but her voice was calm when she spoke. “I have plenty of guardsman who fight with daggers. And if they want to keep their jobs they won’t spar with you.” Hawke opened her mouth to protest but before she could say anything Aveline cut her off. “I said no, Hawke.”_ _

__Hawke threw her daggers into the dirt floor of the sparring ground, like a child having a tantrum. “This is ridiculous!” she exclaimed._ _

__Aveline put her hands on her hips. “Maker help me Hawke, I will throw you out of here if I have to.” She said pointing towards the doors._ _

__The two women scowled at each other. Hawke opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Sebastian intervened._ _

__“The solution is simple Anabel. Spar with me.”_ _

__Anabel stared at him dumbfounded. “You can’t fight with knives.” She said stupidly. Sebastian fighting without his bow seemed just…wrong._ _

__He gave her that small teasing smile that she loved. “I most assuredly can, lass. Do you think my training was limited to just one weapon?” He asked unfastening his doublet. Anabel wore just leggings, boots and a linen shirt. He would do the same._ _

__She was momentarily distracted by the sight of those elegant fingers make swift work of the fastenings of the doublet. She suddenly remembered how quickly he’d unlaced her trousers that time. “But you’re a prince.” She protested forcing her eyes upwards. “And a priest. Fighting with knives is so common and sneaky and low.” She realized what she’d said made little sense the minute the words left her mouth._ _

__He simply rolled his eyes. “Says the Amell of Hightown, who fights with knives exclusively. I may be a bit out of practice, but I’m fairly sure I can handle some light sparring.” He shrugged out of the doublet and placed it on the bench and turned back to her._ _

__Her eyebrows had come together in a frown. “You’re sure?” She asked dubiously._ _

__“I wouldn’t make the offer if I weren’t.” He said stepping close and lifting one of her hands pressed a kiss to it._ _

__She looked hopefully at Aveline._ _

__Aveline considered the idea. “All right.” She finally said. “If you use practice blades. Non-negotiable Hawke.” she said as Anabel opened her mouth to protest._ _

__Anabel went to fetch some wooden practice blades, muttering to herself the whole time. “Practice blades. How am I supposed to get a feel for anything using stupid wooden blades like some infant just learning how to fight?” She said under her breath, just loud enough for Aveline to hear, and just low enough that the Guard Captain could ignore it. She returned and tossed Sebastian two of the blades._ _

__He swung them experimentally. It had been years since he had fought with blades, but the feel wasn’t as foreign as he had feared._ _

__They circled each other slowly and began their practice. He could sense her holding back. She was moving almost stiffly, with little of the grace and flexibility she usually showed, even when only using the practice dummies._ _

__“You needn’t go easy on me, Anabel.” Sebastian told her after their first exchange._ _

__“I’m not!” She protested. But she was. She didn’t want to make him look foolish in front of the guards and her other companions._ _

__She continued fighting that way, and he easily countered each of her attacks. Suddenly he spun around her, so fast that it took her completely by surprise, and before she had fully registered it, he’d smacked her firmly on the behind with the flat of the wooden blade._ _

__She let out a yelp and then looked at him, astonished he’d done it in front of the guard and everyone else._ _

__He just grinned playfully. “I told you not to go easy on me.”_ _

__“Ow!” She protested, laughing._ _

__“Don’t be a baby. I barely touched you.” He scoffed._ _

__A small smile curved her lips. “Well you won’t touch me again.”_ _

__They circled each other lightly on the balls of their feet and he noted with satisfaction that she was beginning to move more smoothly and more naturally. But he could tell she was still holding back._ _

__He spun again, the way he had before, but this time he changed direction and smacked her other buttock._ _

__She yelped again. “Shit. Stop doing that!” She said, laughing._ _

__“I’m not nearly as predictable as you think, Ana. Even with blades. Stop fighting so properly.”_ _

__She couldn’t seem to stop laughing. “I can’t help it. You can’t fight dirty with a Prince. It’s just wrong.”_ _

__“Come on.” He said. “Is this how you fight the Carta or the Coterie? Training like this won’t accomplish anything.” He reached to smack her again, and she blocked the move and spun out of reach. “Good.” He said with an approving nod. “That’s more like it.”_ _

__The sparring continued and they began to get a sense of how the other moved. The moves became faster and more complex and Sebastian could tell that she had forgotten that she was fighting him: he was simply a sparring partner._ _

__Both of them were sweating now and breathing heavily, but they had gotten into an easy rhythm._ _

__For the first time since her accident Anabel actually felt challenged. She liked sparring with Sebastian, she realized. There was an edge of … something that she’d never had before when she trained. A feeling that it could easily be turned into another sort of contest. Sweet Andraste, she sounded like one of Isabella’s novels again, and the pink that flared on her cheeks had nothing to do with overexertion._ _

__Sebastian immediately noticed her flushed cheeks. “Tell me if you need to rest.”_ _

___Not a chance_ , she thought. Her eyes were alight with the excitement of the fight. Her hair had come unbound, and she tossed it impatiently over her shoulder. “Can’t keep up, Choir Boy?” She said giving him a challenging grin, dancing away from him on the balls of her feet. _ _

__He lifted his arm to wipe the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his shirt._ _

__He looked amazing. His hair was slightly mussed, and the ties of his shirt had loosened revealing a surprising amount of chest hair. She had the sudden urge to go up to him and twine her fingers into it. Unaware that she did it, she ran her tongue over her lips._ _

__Sebastian saw the movement and recognized the look on her face. She wanted him. Perhaps almost as much as he wanted her. He couldn’t help the satisfied smirk of a smile that came to his face. “You seem distracted, Champion.” He suggested._ _

__Her eyes narrowed at his presumption (the fact that it was accurate was unimportant). “I’m merely concerned that the exertion might prove too much for a man of your advanced years, Your Highness.” They circled each other slowly._ _

__She was adorable, even when she was a brat. “Not at all, Champion. But I thank you for your concern, however misplaced it might be. Shall we continue?”_ _

__She answered him by suddenly charging towards him dropping to the floor and sliding right past him. He looked down and behind him in confusion. He had only a fraction of a second to be startled by how fast she'd moved before she’d vaulted over his back, and grabbing the hem of his shirt pulled it up and over his head. He ended up completely entangled in it and as he fought to free himself, she smacked his rear with one of her blades. It made a very satisfying thwack, and she smiled smugly as she sauntered away from him._ _

__“Ow!” Sebastian gave up trying to untangle the shirt and simply yanked it off over his head. “Right. You’ll pay for that, Lass.” He said, pointing at her with one of the wooden blades._ _

__“Blimey.” Brennan was looking past her when she spoke, completely gobsmacked. Anabel turned, not understanding what could have caused such a reaction, and there was Sebastian, standing there. Daggers at the ready. Prepared to strike. And entirely naked from the waist up._ _

_Blimey_ , she thought, echoing Brennan's words. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. 

__“Oh, Isabela. I can’t believe you’re missing this.” She heard Varric mutter quietly behind her._ _

__She couldn’t seem to move. She felt almost paralyzed. For some reason with his chest bare, the civilized prince and brother image that Sebastian always projected was gone. He looked…larger somehow. Far less civilized. And with a glint in his eye that could have been a determination to win the sparring match, or to throw her to the ground and have his way with her._ _

__Her heart began to race at the thought of it._ _

__She readied her own daggers and they circled one another again. She was still staring at him. She couldn’t help it. He lunged towards her and she flipped backwards, barely avoiding his blades._ _

__He was gaining the upper hand, she realized as she had to duck and roll to avoid another attack. And, she told herself firmly, it had nothing to do with the broad expanse of muscled chest she was suddenly confronted with, or the way his chest hair, darker than the hair on his head, tapered to a line, disappearing into the waist of his trousers, or the definition of the muscles on his arms and shoulders. She had to quickly duck out of the way to avoid being hit. She lunged at him awkwardly and Sebastian parried her attack, causing her to stumble and nearly fall._ _

__“Oh, I am good aren’t I?” Sebastian said with a smirk._ _

__Hawke gave him a withering look. All right then. Time to fight dirty she decided. She continued to spar with him but deliberately she let her responses slow a bit._ _

__Aveline noticed immediately. “She’s not well enough for this. I’m putting a stop to it.” She started to walk towards them._ _

__Fenris glanced up from his sword with a worried look, and then smiled. “Aveline.” He called._ _

__She looked over her shoulder._ _

__“She is toying with him.” Said Fenris simply. Aveline looked more carefully and then with what may have been a small smile returned to the bench._ _

__Hawke and Sebastian were circling each other. Hawke winced suddenly. She bent forwards slightly and held up a hand for him to stop._ _

__Immediately, Sebastian dropped his daggers and rushed to her side. “Are you all right?” he asked, bending over her._ _

__In that moment she ducked down and swept one leg behind both of his and he fell to his back. Immediately she was on top of him, straddling his upper chest, her knees pressing on his upper arms, and her wooden daggers at his throat._ _

__She smiled at the shock on his face. “Shame on you, Prince, to be taken in by a woman’s wiles. Did they not teach you that in Starkhaven?” Her dimple danced on her cheek as she gave him a mocking smile._ _

__“You minx!” He stared at her, astonished. He couldn’t believe she would use her injury just to win a sparring match._ _

__He couldn’t believe he hadn’t considered that she would do just that._ _

__“Do you yield?” She asked pressing her knees more firmly into his arms. Her hair had come loose and had fallen over her shoulders tickling his face and chest. He struggled briefly and the wooden dagger pressed against his throat more firmly. “Say, it!” She demanded._ _

__He was laughing as he responded “Yes, yes, I yield.”_ _

__With a satisfied smile she shifted back and released his arms only to find herself suddenly flat on her back covered by Sebastian’s much larger body, both her hands pinned by her head. She struggled uselessly for a moment and then dropped her head back to the ground._ _

__“Unfair!” She cried. “You yielded!” Her lush mouth was an outraged ‘o’ of astonishment._ _

__“Shame on you, Champion, to be taken in by a rogue’s promise. Didn’t they teach you that in Fereldan?” He was smiling down at her in a way that made her believe every story she’d heard of the rascal prince._ _

__She just stared at him for a moment and then started giggling that wonderful throaty giggle that he loved so much._ _

__“And the real Sebastian Vael emerges. Oh, I’m on to you now. That kind hearted noble brother act? A complete sham. You won’t fool me again.” She tried to blow an escaped curl out of her eye, and with a smile he let go of her hands and propped himself on his elbows. He reached down smoothed the curl back. His hand lingered on her check and his thumb moved to brush against her lush mouth. She gazed up at him in wonder. Her eyes looked much bluer than usual._ _

__He smiled, knowing full well what that meant now. “Hello.”_ _

__And just like that her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t know how he did it. “Hello.” She replied, her voice absurdly breathless. She moved her hand to his arm and swallowed hard when she felt how warm his bare skin was. Her hand moved to his chest and she twined her fingers through his chest hair as she’d wanted to earlier and saw his throat move as he swallowed hard. Her lips curved into a smile. She moved one leg so it curved around his hips._ _

__They were both suddenly acutely aware of the feel of their bodies pressed against each other. Unable to stop herself she moved her other arm around his back, catching her lower lip between her teeth as she felt the muscles of his back against her palm._ _

__The twinkle in Sebastian’s eyes changed to something darker and hotter. His eyes flickered over her mouth, mere inches from his own. They stared at each other for an unending moment, before he moved closer and brushed his face against her cheek, not kissing her, not quite._ _

__She shifted underneath him, wanting to get closer, wanting more, wanting something and his reaction was instantaneous. Her eyes widened as she felt the hardness pressing firmly against her. He started to pull away and she wrapped her other leg around him holding him firmly in place._ _

__“No, not yet.” She whispered._ _

__“Anabel…”_ _

__“Just for a moment.” She pleaded. She touched her fingers to his mouth. “Mine.” She whispered._ _

__“Yours.” He whispered back and bent closer to kiss her._ _

__They had both completely forgotten where they were, something they were reminded of when a pair of armored legs appeared by their heads. They looked up to see Aveline glaring down at them._ _

__“Are you two quite done giving my guards ammunition for gossip for the week, or do I need to get a bucket of cold water?”_ _

__They quickly scrambled apart as shamed as two teenagers caught by an outraged parent. There was a dull buzz of hushed conversation from the guards until Aveline looked over at them with a stern frown. The noise ceased instantly as the guardsmen resumed their training. Sebastian found and yanked on his shirt, as Anabel quickly tied back her hair again._ _

__She looked up at Aveline who was still scowling, but her wroth seemed focused on Sebastian. “Might I have a word with you, Prince? A private word.” She amended, as Anabel took a step closer. She didn’t even look at the younger woman, keeping her steely gaze fixed on Sebastian._ _

__“Aveline…” Hawke started to say._ _

__Sebastian put a hand on her arm. “It’s all right, Anabel. We’ll just be a moment.” He picked up his doublet and shrugged it on by didn’t fasten it before turned back to Aveline. “In your office, Guard Captain?” He inquired casually, letting her know that he was willing to speak with her but he wouldn’t be bullied._ _

__Aveline gave him a terse nod, and led the way up the stairs to her office. Once they got there, she wasted no time getting right to the point. “What are your intentions towards Hawke?” She asked abruptly._ _

__He raised a careful eyebrow. “I believe that’s between Anabel and myself.”_ _

__Aveline crossed her arms over her chest. “Not when you behave like that in the middle of the training ground, it isn’t.” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “I know Hawke storms through Kirkwall, bold as brass. I know she might give an impression that she’s a woman of the world, but she’s not. Quite the contrary. You might be surprised to find out that she’s really quite innocent about such things. She’s…”_ _

__Sebastian cut her off. “Aveline, I know. And I would never take advantage of that.”_ _

__She seemed to relax her stance a bit. “And yet your behaving like this isn’t helping her reputation. The time you spend in private with her. The … affection you show her in public. She’s riding high now, after killing the Arishok and nearly dying because of it, but people, people in Kirkwall in particular have a very short memory. They might overlook things now that they won’t later.” She gave him a careful look. “I know you care for her. I’m assuming you won’t do anything that would do her harm, in any way.”_ _

__He felt a brief flair of irritation at being lectured like a schoolboy, but it lessened when he admitted she did it out of love for Hawke. “Anabel is important to me. I would never harm her.”_ _

__“And I can trust that your intentions towards her are honorable?” She persisted._ _

__“I believe that question will be answered by the end of the summer, Guard Captain.”_ _

__Aveline blinked at him and then a smile of understanding came to her face. “I’m glad to hear it.”_ _

__He couldn’t help smiling back at her. “Then I have your permission to leave?”_ _

__“Yes. I just wanted to be certain.” She admitted. “Hawke is family to me. What we went through together… She’s family.”_ _

__“I understand Guard Captain. And might I ask that you not mention the details of our conversation to anyone? There are certain formalities still to be worked out.”_ _

__She inclined her head, smiling again. “Of course.”_ _

__There was a sudden pounding at the door. “Maker’s sake Aveline, open the door and let Sebastian out. This is ridiculous.”_ _

__Aveline crossed to the door and opened it so suddenly that Hawke stumbled into the room._ _

__She looked from Aveline to Sebastian with suspicion. “Why are you both smiling like that?”_ _

__Aveline just smiled more broadly._ _

__Hawke turned to Sebastian._ _

__“The Guard Captain and I can’t share a pleasant conversation?” He asked innocently._ _

__“Uh-huh.” She said dubiously. She didn’t know what had been said, but Aveline seemed completely mollified. She though briefly about pursuing the matter but decided against it. “So we can leave, Aveline?” She asked._ _

__“Of course you can leave. Why would you think I was preventing that?” Aveline asked._ _

__Anabel had a perplexed frown on her face when Sebastian took her by the arm and led her from the room._ _

__Aveline was still smiling ten minutes later when Donnic knocked on her door. “Come in.” She told him. “Close the door behind you.”_ _

__He did as she asked and when he turned found his soon to be wife directly in front of him. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him enthusiastically. He returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm and when it ended the smile was back. “You’re in a very good mood.” He commented._ _

__“Yes.” Aveline admitted. “I am. Life is good. I had forgotten for a while that it could be this good.” To Donnic’s surprise she rested her head on his shoulder and seemed more than content to stay there. She rarely had the time for such things when they were working. He put his arm around her and took her hand in his, running his finger over the signet ring he had given her when he’d proposed._ _

__She looked down at it. “We’re getting married in a few days.” She said softly._ _

__He kissed the side of her head. “We are indeed.”_ _

__Her fingers tightened around his. “Life is good.” She said again._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	6. Through Sacrifice of Blood and Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela returns to Kirkwall, and Anabel finally makes the trip up Sundermount to speak with Marethari.

Aveline and Donnic’s wedding went off without a hitch.

Much to Aveline’s relief, it was exactly what she had wanted (that is if she had to do something other than a quick ceremony with no one in attendance but the required two witnesses). They held it in the garden of the Amell mansion, just as it was getting dark. Anabel had strung paper lanterns and had brought in even more flowers and it looked like an enchanted glade. Aveline looked beautiful standing there beside Donnic in a simple green silk gown that perfectly matched the color of her eyes. Anabel had persuaded her to let Orana do her hair, the elf had curled it and pinned it up, coaxing some soft curls free so they framed her face, before topping it with the traditional floral wreath. The normally stoic guard captain had been a wreck before the ceremony, but her anxiety had vanished the moment she’d seen Donnic waiting for her by the Chantry Mother performing the ceremony, and now she was smiling and had eyes only for Donnic as they made their vows to each other.

Anabel stood beside her as witness, wearing a violet dress with a sheer silk overlay in a deep blue, her hair pulled back into a neat chignon. But for the glow of her hair she seemed to blend into the surrounding twilight of the garden, leaving Aveline the focus of the tableau. Looking at her Sebastian couldn’t help remembering overhearing his older brother’s wife making a catty remark at a family wedding about the bridesmaids outshining the bride, and he couldn’t help wondering whose idea Anabel’s dress had been. 

On his recommendation they had asked Mother Kora to perform the ceremony. She was an older priest renowned for her common sense and no nonsense attitude who Sebastian had thought would suit Aveline very well. The ceremony was brief and to the point, with none of the frills or sentimental flourishes that Aveline abhorred, and it concluded quickly with the cheers of the couple’s friends and colleagues as Donnic kissed his wife for the first time.

As busy as Anabel was with making sure the celebration ran smoothly, Sebastian barely saw her for most of the evening. He finally managed to corner her much later after the dinner was concluded and the dancing was taking place in the main room of the mansion.

She was standing in the doorway and she smiled as Sebastian came up beside her. “Look.” She said softly.

Aveline was sitting on one of the benches that they’d placed around the edge of the room, leaning against Donnic who stood behind her. She had her head tilted up and was smiling up at him, with all the love she felt for him showing plainly on her face. He was smiling back and as they watched he reached down to caress the side of her face. Her hand reached up to take hold of his and she closed her eyes and leaned into it, still smiling.

Anabel looked up at Sebastian and he saw her eyes were brimming with tears, but she too was smiling.

He couldn’t help leaning down a pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re a sentimental little thing.” He commented as he brushed a tear from her cheek.

She laughed. “I am. A sap. A hopeless romantic. But look…” She turned back to gaze at Aveline and Donnic. “Look how happy they are. After all she went through, all she lost. And now she has someone she loves who loves her and they’re going to spend the rest of their lives together. It makes me happy.”

He slipped an arm around her waist. “Come.” He said, and led her from the room, and down the hall, through to the kitchens. 

“Are you kidnapping me from the very party I’m hosting?” She asked with a smile as he guided her outside and into the now deserted garden. 

He took her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. “Indeed I am. You’ve hardly sat down all evening, you’ve barely eaten or drunk anything yourself, and I’ve had far too little time with you. So…” He gestured and she looked over to see that the wrought iron table had been set up with of wine and refreshments. 

She sighed happily. “It’s perfect.”

He ushered to the table, pulling out a chair for her and she sank gratefully into it. “Maker it feels good to sit.” She gave him a questioning look. “Would you be terribly offended if I took off my shoes? My feet are killing me.” 

“Yes, terribly offended.” He said, crouching down in front of her and reaching for her foot. His eyebrow arched when he saw her shoes, elaborately embroidered purple brocade, with a heel of almost four inches and pointed toes. They were beautiful and certainly elegant, but he could only imagine just how uncomfortable they must be. He shook his head as he slipped first one and then the other off and gently massaged her feet. “What possessed you to wear these when you knew you’d be running around all night?”

She seemed to almost purr as his fingers soothed her aching feet. “I didn’t want to look ridiculous standing next to Aveline.” She explained. “She’s so much taller than I am. And they were pretty. It seemed like a good idea at the start of the evening. I didn’t realize they had an alternate use as instruments of torture.”

“You never bother with heels when you’re with me.” He commented.

“There’s not much point, giant of a man that you are. Even with high heels the difference in our heights is ridiculous. I might as well be comfortable.” She wiggled her toes. “I hate shoes. If I had my way I wouldn’t wear them at all.” 

“Allow me then.” He eased her feet back to the floor and picking up the offending shoes, tossed them into the far corner of the garden. 

She gave a delighted laugh. “I wish you’d done that earlier.”

“If I’d known you were in pain I would have.” He poured some wine for each of them and handed her a glass. She lifted it to drink, and he put his hand on her arm to stop her.

“Wait.” He said. “I’d like to propose a toast if I might.”

“How very formal.” She teased looking up at him with laughing eyes.

He smiled down at her unable to believe his good fortune in finding her. “To Dulcie De Launcet.” He announced. 

“The Comtesse?” Anabel asked with a confused frown. Whatever she had expected him to say it hadn’t been that.

Sebastian’s eyes twinkled. “Yes, the Comtesse. As it turns out, I owe her a great debt.”

Anabel arched an eyebrow. “Do you now?”

“Indeed. Had she and her daughters not been pursuing me so relentlessly I might not have made the decision to duck into the Viscount’s library to hide.” He saw her begin to understand, and he knelt down in front of her. It brought them almost to eye level. “As it turned out, that decision proved to be the most important and best decision of my life, because it reunited me with you.”

Her eyes were warm. “Then I owe her a debt as well.” She lifted her glass. “To Dulcie De Launcet.” 

They clinked their glasses lightly together and took a sip. Anabel couldn’t help leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. “What made you think of that?” She asked him. 

He reached out and caressed the side of her face. “Because that night was one year ago, today.” 

She stared at him for a moment and then smiled in delight. “Truly?”

He couldn’t help smiling back. As busy as she had been with the preparations he didn’t think she had realized that Aveline’s wedding was taking place on the same day. One year, and so many changes -- for both of them. He took her wine from her hand and placed both of their glasses on the table before turning back and taking her hands in his. “Yes. And I thank the Maker and Andraste that it did. My world is a brighter place with you in it, Anabel Hawke.”

She had to blink suddenly to keep the tears from her eyes. “It seems such a short time ago, but somehow it feels as if you’ve always been here. Does that make any sense?”

“Strangely enough it does.”

She kissed him again. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

She slipped her arms around his neck. “For choosing that door. For not bolting when you realized the chaos that forever seems to follow in my wake. For everything.”

“It’s I who should thank you.” He lifted her chin. “You brought me back into the world and made me want to be a part of it again. I don’t even know if I would have pursued it without you. I would have found it easier to simply stay with the Chantry.” 

Her heart skipped a beat and she wondered if that meant he wasn’t staying with the Chantry, but she was too cowardly to ask, so she kissed him again.

His arms slid around her back pulling her closer against him. 

Someone cleared their throat, and they broke apart and turned to see Bodahn standing there. “Excuse me, messeres, but the happy couple are getting ready to leave.” Having delivered his message Bodahn quickly disappeared back into the house.

Sebastian turned and kissed her again. “Duty calls.” He murmured against her lips.

Anabel cast a longing look at the table. “We didn’t get to have our celebration.”

“We’ll have a proper celebration next year.” Sebastian promised.

Her heart was suddenly pounding. “Next year?” She asked trying to sound nonchalant.

He lifted her hand to his lips. “Every year.” 

Her lips curved into a pleased smile. “I’ll hold you to that.” She warned.

He smiled back. “You won’t have to.” He said and unable to help himself, kissed her lips once more. “Yours.” He said softly.

“Yours.” She repeated, reaching up a hand to stroke his face.

Just one more kiss and then stood and pulled her to her feet, slipping his arm around her waist. Without her high heels she didn’t even reach his shoulder. So small to have done so much, he thought for probably the hundredth time since he’d met her. His arm tightened around her and he guided her back to the house to send the happy couple on their way.

 

So Aveline and Donnic left for their honeymoon in Orlais, and life went almost back to what it was before the Qunari had attacked. Anabel was fully recovered and beginning to wander through Kirkwall as she had before, though without her former anonymity: now everyone knew who she was. 

Sebastian had returned to working in Elthina’s office in the mornings, but Sister Alma officially held the post of Elthina’s assistant, and he harbored no regrets about that. His afternoons and evenings were spent with Anabel. It became increasingly rare to see one of them without the other.

Spring slowly turned into summer, that perfect part of summer, Anabel proclaimed, when it was warm but not hot, and one could laze about in the garden or walk around Hightown without melting into an overheated puddle. All too soon the part of the summer when the temperatures would soar and the humidity would rise and any breeze that offered relief would seem to have completely vanish would be here, she warned, laughing when Sebastian informed her she sounded as ominous as an underpaid Rivaini seer. 

She and Sebastian had volunteered to do the shopping for Orana and they returned back to the mansion laden with baskets and package, and still laughing merrily.

“There’s a letter arrived while you were gone Messere.” Said Bodahn as he relieved her of her burdens.

Anabel groaned as she crossed to the desk. There was scarcely a day that letters didn’t arrive, people asking for things, inviting her to things, trying to sell her things. She frowned at the latest to arrive. It was more travel-stained than most she received. Curious, she broke the seal and began to read. 

_Dear Hawke,_  
 _Or is it now "Champion Hawke"? The story of how you handled the Arishok is very popular here. There are few things the Tevinters enjoy more than a tale of Qunari defeat!_  
 _To say the Imperium is a strange place would be a vast understatement. Men and women work magic in the street while their slaves look on. I watched my own master kill a rival magister in a duel just days ago. Sometimes I look around and think I understand the templars in Kirkwall._  
 _My studies are going well. My dreams don't trouble me as much these days. I'm hopeful that, in time, I'll master myself. I just wanted to thank you. I owe you more than my life. I owe you my life and my future._

 _Feynriel_

She stood there for a moment looking at it.

“It’s not bad news?” Asked Sebastian, coming up behind her.

She shook her head. “No, it’s actually good news. It’s from Feynriel, Arianni’s boy, remember? He’s writing from Tevinter to thank me for helping him.” Had it really been only last Autumn? It felt so much longer than that. Feynriel was alive, and seemingly doing well. “I made the right decision.” She said looking up at Sebastian with a brilliant smile.

He couldn’t help smiling back. “I didn’t know you worried about it.” She never mentioned it.

She laughed. “I always worry about it. All these life altering decisions that people arbitrarily toss my way. I always worry. I always wonder if I should have done something differently. But look.” She said, handing him the letter. “Someone has actually taken the time to tell me, yes, it was the right thing to do. I can’t tell you how nice it is to hear that.”

Sebastian read it, shuddering inwardly at the boy’s description of life in Tevinter, before handing it back to her. “I’m glad he’s doing well.” He still had mixed feelings about her decision to let him go.

“I should tell his mother. She’s returned to the Dalish.” She looked back at the letter. “I could speak with Marethari as well.” She still hadn’t made the trek up Sundermount. After what had happened with Justice she had been happy to just let the matter lie, but lately, now that she was wandering around Kirkwall she would sense things, sense mages, sense magic, most of the time nonthreatening, but occasionally that sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that could only be blood mages, or demons, never close, just a tickle of dread somewhere deep inside that let her know that darkness, that sickness, was still there, still lurking in those hidden parts of Kirkwall. She couldn’t simply ignore it anymore. She needed to find out what her father had done, and what these strange templar-like abilities of hers were, and how she could use them to keep everyone safe. 

Sebastian was smiling knowingly when she looked up at him. “When do you want to go?” He asked.

Anabel blinked in surprise. “Just like that? No arguments? No trying to talk me out of it?” 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m frankly surprised you’ve put it off this long.” 

There was a knock on the door, and Bodahn crossed the room to answer it. 

“Tomorrow?” She suggested. “If we left early enough we could be back before evening.”

He nodded. “Very well.”

Bodahn returned. “Messere Fenris.” He announced.

“Fenris!” Anabel said happily. “We were just planning a trip up Sundermount. You’ll come won’t you?” She broke off when she saw his expression. “What is it?” He had that strangely shuttered look he sometimes got. It usually meant he had something to tell her and he was uncertain of how she would receive it.

“Isabela has returned.” He said after a moment.

Her eyes went round. “What? When?” 

“A few days ago. She’s at the Hanged Man.” 

For a moment Anabel didn’t know whether to be relieved Isabela was alive and apparently safe, or furious that she’d been back for days and still hadn’t come to see her. “Probably standing right at the bar as if she’d never left.” 

Fenris inclined his head at the truth of the statement. “Of course.” 

Without another word she turned and headed for the door, glancing over her shoulder as she opened it. “Aren’t you two coming?” 

Fenris couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he followed her. He’d warned Isabela that he would tell Hawke she had returned if she didn’t go and see her. The consequences were entirely hers now. 

 

Isabela tossed back another whiskey, and looked around the Hanged Man. The place was as awful as she remembered. The same crowd, the same noise, the same rank smell, the same foul whiskey. She refilled her glass and took another sip. Absolutely vile. Quite the worst whiskey she’d had ever, anywhere.

Andraste tits, she’d missed it. Even the whiskey. And maybe if she downed enough of it she’d get up the nerve to go and see Hawke. 

Or not. 

Who was she kidding? She was an idiot to have come back. It was too late to go today. Tomorrow. 

Tomorrow she’d either go and see Hawke, or go down to the Docks and see what ships were in, and where she could head next. Maybe Orlais. She hadn’t been to Orlais in years. 

Orlais sounded like a plan. She poured herself another drink.

“Coward.”

Isabela stiffened when she heard that voice. She took a drink of her whiskey and turned slowly around. 

Hawke stood there, her hands on her hips. She was clearly annoyed, but beneath that the fool girl actually looked happy to see her.

She looked well, though. More than well, Isabela saw with relief. Hawke’s eyes were sparkling, her cheeks were pink; she was positively bursting with health. Sebastian stood protectively behind her, still wearing that gleaming white armor and ridiculous Andraste head belt buckle, but his presence confirmed the rumors that she’d heard in every port she’d traveled to, that the Starkhaven prince and the Champion of Kirkwall were practically inseparable these days. His expression was far more guarded than Hawke’s. 

Feigning a nonchalance she was far from feeling, Isabela leaned back against the bar. “Hello, Hawke. Checking up on me?”

Hawke just rolled her eyes. “Were you ever planning to come to see me? Or were you just going to skulk down here?”

“I’m not skulking.” Isabela said, not meeting Hawke’s eye. “I’ve been busy.”

“Oh yes, I can see that.” Said Hawke, staring pointedly at the near empty whiskey bottle on the bar behind her. She turned to Sebastian and Fenris. “Could you give us a few minutes?”

Without a word the two men turned and left them there.

Hawke moved next to Isabela at the bar and pushing herself up, reached over and grabbed an empty glass and filled it from Isabela’s bottle. 

For a moment neither of them spoke. Isabel took another drink and then turned to look at Hawke. “You know what you said after the mess with the Qunari?”

Hawke tried to remember. “I said I was proud of you, that you did the right thing.”

Isabela scowled. “It may have been the right thing, but it was also the dumb thing. I had the relic. I should have kept running.” She still wasn’t sure why she had turned around. Look what had happened because of it.

Hawke had been watching her carefully. “Oh, no you don’t.” She said when she saw the scowl. “I couldn’t have saved Kirkwall without you, you silly woman.”

“Bullshit. You could have swarmed the keep and slaughtered all those Qunari if you had to. Well, you and Aveline. She’s basically a woman shaped battering ram.”

Anabel couldn’t help grinning. “She’s missed you too, you know. You missed her wedding.”

Isabela gave a snort. “Which one wore the dress?”

Anabel’s lips twitched, but she forced herself to look stern. “So you think it would have gone better if you hadn’t come back? It would have been a slaughter. You stopped that, Isabela. You did the right thing. So what’s the real reason you haven’t come to see me?”

Isabela squirmed and then gave a seemingly careless shrug. “Look, the fact is you and I have nothing in common anymore. You’re the Champion. And I’m just a lying thieving snake.”

“That’s not true.” Said Anabel immediately. She couldn’t possibly believe that, could she? Isabela was looking down at her hands, playing with her now empty glass. Anabel gave her a nudge with her shoulder. “It’s not true.” She repeated. “I know there’s a heart of gold in you.” 

Isabela frowned, still not looking at her.

“We just have to dig it out and sell it.” She explained. “We’ll split the profits and call it even.”

When Isabela looked at her Hawke’s eyes were twinkling, and she couldn’t help laughing. The girl was too charming for her own good she thought, shaking her head. “I tell you what. I’ll be here if you need me.” She started to walk away, only to be yanked back into a fierce hug.

“Don’t you ever run away again.” Hawke said against her ear. “Leaving like that. Do you have any idea how angry I’ve been with you?” She pulled back and glared at the pirate, her eyes bright with tears. “I’d spank you, but I think you’d like it.” 

Isabela started laughing and to her surprise felt her own eyes fill with tears. “You should be angry with me, you silly cow. You nearly died! Dueling the Arishok for someone like me. What is wrong with you?” She hugged her back, just as fiercely.

Maker, she’d missed the pirate. “It’s been awful since you left." She complained. "I’ve had no one to tell me wicked stories. No one to turn everything into dirty jokes. No one would spar with me for the longest time because they were too afraid of Aveline and Fenris. No one’s been sneaking into my house to borrow clothes and leave me filthy novels hidden on my bookcase. You wouldn’t believe how I suffered. Promise me you won’t ever leave like that again.” She hugged the woman even tighter.

Damn the girl. She should know better than anyone Isabela didn’t do feelings. She couldn’t help hugging her back. “I promise.” She heard herself say.

Fenris and Sebastian exchanged a satisfied look, before rejoining the two women.

The evening turned into quite the celebration. Varric sent urchins to fetch Merrill and Anders. A great deal of alcohol was consumed. Isabela told increasingly improbable stories of what she had done and where she had been while she’d been gone. 

She’d gone to the bar to order the next round and when she turned around, to her surprise she found Sebastian beside her.

“All right. Let’s get this over with.”

Sebastian just raised an eyebrow. “Over with?” He repeated innocently.

She gave him a knowing look. “The sermon. The fingerwagging. The guilt trip.”

He just smiled. “There was something I wanted to say to you, actually.”

She scowled at him. There was only so much she was willing to take from him no matter what he meant to Hawke. 

To her utter astonishment he bent and kissed her cheek. “It was very brave of you coming back to face the Qunari.”

She blinked in surprise and then she shook her head. “It was idiotic. They would have killed me.”

“And yet you returned anyway. You couldn’t face the thought of so many innocents dying for something you could prevent.” 

“Tell that to the Viscount.” Said Isabela, turning back to the bar. What the Void was taking Corff so long with the drinks?

Sebastian leaned on the bar beside her. “It’s frightening, isn’t it, realizing you have the potential to be better person?” 

She looked up, prepared to make a snide remark but stopped when she saw the understanding in his eyes. She looked down in confusion. _Shit_. 

Corff returned with a tray of drinks, and Sebastian picked it up. When she looked at him his eyes were warm. “Welcome home, Isabela.” 

She stared after him a moment and unable to think of what else to do, followed him to the table. 

“I think we’d better plan on staying overnight.” Hawke was saying. “We’re never going to be able to get moving early enough to be back tomorrow night.”

“Then I’m afraid I’m out.” Anders said. If Hawke looked happy and healthy, Anders looked more worn than ever. That Templar bitch Meredith probably had something to do with it, but Isabela had seen the looks he gave Hawke and Sebastian when he thought no one was looking. She couldn't help feeling a little sorry for the poor sod.

Hawke frowned at him and then turned to Varric. “Are you and Bianca coming?”

Varric leaned back in his chair. “You want me to trek up a mountain in summer you’re going have to give me something more than a friendly chat with the Keeper, Hawke.” 

“Isabela’s coming. Maybe she’ll cause an incident.”

Isabela looked up. “What?” She shook her head. “Oh no. I never said I was coming along. I don’t do nature walks, Kitten.”

Hawke smiled happily at the nickname. “Oh, come one. It’ll be fun.” She turned aside to continue to try and persuade Varric. 

Isabela frowned at her back. She wasn’t about to go climbing up a gloomy mountain, no matter how guilty she might feel about everything that had happened. 

It was about an hour later when Fenris slipped into the chair beside her. As gorgeous as she remembered, she thought looking at him.

“I can’t believe Hawke saved you from the Qunari.” He said with no preamble.

She raised an eyebrow. “Direct as ever I see. I suppose you would have turned me over to them?”

“No.” He admitted. “But I know what they do to their prisoners.”

She rolled her eyes. “Execute them horribly, I suppose.”

“The Qunari waste nothing. You would have been reeducated into a loyal follower of the Qun.”

“Right.” She said with a snort. “And if I refused?”

His face was unreadable. “There is always _qamek_ , which turns you into a mindless laborer. As I said, they waste nothing.”

“Oh.” She said blinking at him.

He leaned closer placing his mouth close to her ear. “If you wish to thank Hawke, she's right over there.” He said pointing at the bar, before getting up and going to sit beside Sebastian.

Isabela sat there for a moment before getting to her feet and going over to Hawke. 

Anabel was flushed and happy. Everyone had returned. When Aveline got back from Orlais she’d have all her family together again. Her odd, messed up, strange little family. She grinned happily at Isabela as the pirate joined her, with a strangely subdued expression on her face. 

“So, a trip up Sundermount?” Isabela asked casually after a moment.

Anabel’s grin broadened and she linked her arm through the pirate’s. “It’ll be fun. I promise.” 

 

It was early afternoon before they made it to the Dalish camp. As they left the city, they’d been practically waylaid by a group led by someone claiming to be an Antivan nobleman. They begged her assistance in helping them to capture a dangerous fugitive. Anabel had frowned as the group left them to return to their camp outside the city. 

“Does anyone else think it’s strange that an important Antivan nobleman is camping out instead of staying at an Inn?” she asked. “And that they should happen to find me just as we were planning to go up Sundermount anyway?”

Isabela had snorted. “Please. If my ship had as many holes as that story it would have sunk long before the Qunari got it.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to ask this Variel what she knows about it.” Hawke had said, still frowning.

The story of the Elven fugitive got even stranger after they talked to Variel, when, apparently on the fugitive’s instructions she told them exactly where he was, hiding in a cave just a ways up the mountain.

Hawke raised an eyebrow. “I thought the point of hiding was not to be found.”

Variel gave her a knowing smile. “Not what you expected of a dangerous and evil murderer, is it? He’ll be waiting at the cave.” She turned and walked away calling over her shoulder. “Good luck getting to him, though.”

Anabel stared after her. “Oh crap. It’s that cave, isn’t it?” She looked over at Fenris and Sebastian. “The one with the varterral.”

Sebastian frowned. “We killed the varterral.”

“Yes. I suppose.” She wasn’t entirely convinced of that, but maybe for once she’d be wrong. She couldn’t help the smile that came to her face when she looked at Sebastian. He’d surprised her, surprised them all actually, when he’d shown up that morning wearing not his white and gold armor, but a set of simple black leathers. The change was startling. He looked a little less the proper prince and a little more the rogue she’d imagined he was before he joined the Chantry.

Hawke found Arianni and showed her Feynriel’s letter. The elven woman was thrilled to hear news of him and seemed to be flourishing among the Dalish. Another happy ending apparently and it should have pleased her, but things among the camp were strangely uneasy. 

Marethari was happy to see her and Merrill both. Master Ilen and Hahren Paivel both greeted her pleasantly enough, though they were less pleasant to Merrill. Marethari’s new second, however, made no secret of her dislike of humans, and most of the younger elves seemed to echo that sentiment. As they walked through the camp Anabel overheard several conversations expressing impatience to move on from Sundermount, and frustration that Marethari refused to do so.

She paused at the edge of the camp. “I think we should set up camp and head up to this cave first thing in the morning. I can talk to Marethari tonight.” She chewed on her lower lip. “I want to set up a ways from here.”

“You’re uneasy.” Said Sebastian, watching her.

“Yes.” She said looking at the camp. “Something seems off. I’d prefer not to give them any reason to get more riled up.” She cast a worried look at Merrill who seemed quite glum after a rather bitter exchange she’d had with Master Ilen. 

They found a campsite about a ten minute walk away, near a deep stream, and Anabel returned to speak with Marethari.

The Keeper greeted her warmly as she approached the main campfire. 

She smiled and nodded to the Hahren, and to Marethari’s second, though the woman merely gave her a disdainful look. Hawke turned back to Marethari. “I was wondering if perhaps we could talk.”

“Of course, child.” Said Marethari.

Hawke glanced at the others. “It’s …well I don’t know if personal is the right word. A sensitive subject. But it is important.”

Marethari looked at her carefully. “Come.” She said. “Walk with me, and ask me what you will.”

They left the camp and wandered a short distance up the mountain path to a small open patch that overlooked the camp. It was where she’d first met Merrill she realized.

They stood for a moment in silence before Hawke finally had the nerve to ask. “It’s about the war between the Elvhen and the Tevinter mages. About the fall of Arlathen. About magic. About magic being taken away, actually.”

She looked at Marethari to gauge her reaction, and to her surprise saw sympathy on the woman’s face. 

“You’ve learned what was done to you.” The Keeper said.

Hawke could only stare. “You know?” She thought of their first meeting, when Marethari had examined her so closely. “Did you always know?”

“No.” Said Marethari, shaking her head. “When I first met you I knew there was something…unusual about you. I only suspected. But when you came with Merrill for the arulinholm, yes, then I could feel what had been done. Something had changed.” She didn’t seem inclined to share more. 

“Do you know how it was done?” Hawke finally asked.

“All Keepers are taught what was done, but none know how. I was told the magic was lost. But I know it could not have been done without a great price having been paid.”

“ _Through sacrifice of blood and life at the altar of the Old Gods_ …” Hawke murmured quietly. 

Marethari gave her a sharp look. “Yes. You know more than most.”

“It’s from something I read. So it was blood magic?” She asked and braced herself for the answer she already knew.

“Yes.” Said Marethari, and Hawke’s hands curved into fists. “But more than that would have been required. Do you know who it was who worked such a spell?” She asked gently.

Anabel hesitated. “My father.” She finally admitted. When she looked at the Keeper, Marethari’s expression was guarded. 

“He was trying to protect me. He was afraid I would be taken by the Templars.” Hawke said defensively.

“You would have been powerful.” Said Marethari, very carefully. “It would have been hard to hide you, living among the humans.” 

“You don’t approve of what he did.” 

Marethari sighed. “The People welcome magic. It was almost lost to us. Where all used to have the gift, now only a few do. It is not a choice I would have made.” 

“He did it out of love. I just don’t know how he did it.”

“He would not tell you?” Asked Marethari.

Hawke gave her a sad smile. “He passed away years ago, long before I knew. A wasting sickness he couldn’t heal.” 

When she turned, Marethari was looking at her sadly. “Your father was a healer?” she asked.

“Yes.” 

“A powerful healer?” Marethari asked, as if she wanted to be clear.

“Yes.” Said Hawke with a perplexed frown.

“Forgive me child. Was he still a young man when he died?” 

“He’d had only just turned forty.” He’d been so ill. Bethany had baked a cake but he’d barely managed to eat a bite. He’d been so weak, and it had all happened so suddenly. A wasting sickness he’d called it. He’d grown weaker by the day, and his appetite had all but disappeared by then. He’d seemed to almost fade before their eyes, like a lantern slowly being dimmed. 

_Through sacrifice of blood and life at the altar of the Old Gods._

There was a sudden rushing sound in her ears. She felt light headed and actually had to reach a hand to the boulder beside them to steady herself. She looked over at Marethari. The woman’s eyes were filled with sympathy. “Blood and life. There’s a reason they’re mentioned separately in the book. That’s what you meant when you said more than blood magic. It was his life.”

“His life essence. To perform such a ritual would take more than blood. If he did not sacrifice others for their essence, then he must have used his own.” Marethari explained.

“It was my fault he died.” She said faintly through lips that seemed strangely numb. She felt the older woman’s surprisingly strong arm around her waist and she was gently eased down until she was kneeling on the ground. Marethari was in front of her, her concern plain on her face. 

“It was your father who made this decision, child. He did it to keep you safe. He did it for love of you.” 

Anabel put her hands on the ground in front of her, and somehow the feel of the grass and the earth beneath her hands steadied her. ‘I know.” She said. “I know.” After a moment she shifted back and sat upright. “I’m sorry. It’s a bit of a shock.”

“He loved you, Hawke. He willingly gave of his life so you would live free. When you are a parent you’ll understand. There is nothing you would not do to keep your children safe.”

The Keeper’s voice trailed off and Hawke looked up at her. She was looking down at the Dalish camp, at her people preparing for the evening meal. The tension that had been in the camp seemed to have subsided and you could hear laughter and conversation as the Dalish went about their chores.

Hawke pushed herself to her feet and stood beside Marethari. “A Keeper isn’t just a leader.” She didn’t make it a question.

Marethari glanced at her and smiled. “No. They are all my children. Even those who have left us.”

“Merrill.”

“Yes.” Said the Keeper. “Merrill. Arianni. And others. I would keep them all safe.” She looked at the young woman beside her, only a bit bigger than she was. “You do the same, Hawke. For your companions. For your city. Even here on Sundermount we heard of what you did.”

Was that how Da had felt? When she’d made the decision to fight the Arishok it was because she’d had no other choice if she wanted to keep everyone safe. Though terrifying, it hadn’t been a difficult decision. She wished she could talk to Da about it. She’d never missed him as much as she did right now and the more she discovered, the more she keenly she felt his absence. She turned to Marethari and tried to give her a reassuring smile. “Thank you. For sharing what you know.”

She returned to the campsite. Sebastian and Fenris were both there. Fenris was tending the fire and Sebastian was skinning a rabbit. He looked up as she joined them and frowned when he saw her expression. Boy gave a soft woof and ambled over to her side.

She scratched Boy’s head and tried to give Sebastian a reassuring smile. “You’ve been busy.” 

“I haven’t used my bow for hunting in quite some time.” 

“Where are Merrill and Isabela?” She asked. 

“Bathing further downstream.” Anabel had a preoccupied, distant look. Obviously she had learned something from the Keeper, and not a happy something. “Are you all right?” He asked softly.

“Yes. No. I’m not quite certain. I need to think a bit. Or not think.” She gave a small laugh. “I’m sorry. That doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

“You need some time.” He said.

“Yes. A swim actually sounds perfect. Clear my mind a bit.” She looked at him. “Do you mind?” 

“Of course not.” He said, though he was wondering what Marethari could have told her that had caused such a reaction.

She gave him a wan smile, and after calling to Boy left the camp with the mabari trotting along beside her.

The sun was low in the sky by the time Isabela and Merrill returned. At Sebastian’s questioning look Isabela explained. “She said she wanted to stay longer. Something about clearing her head.” 

Anabel still hadn’t returned almost twenty minutes later. Sebastian sat by the fire casting frequent glances downstream, wondering what could be keeping her.

“You could just go and get her.” Isabela suggested. Maker, they were as pathetic as ever, she thought, though from what Merrill and Varric had told her there had been a few slightly steamy incidents. She still wasn’t entirely sure what Hawke saw in him.

He gave her a warm smile that crinkled his bright blue eyes. “Yes. I think I will.” 

Isabela blinked. All right. He was incredibly good looking. 

He pushed himself to his feet. “This way?” He asked.

“There’s a pool just a ways down.” Merrill told him. “You can’t miss it. Well I suppose you could if you tried, but you wouldn’t try, would you? I could show you if you…” She was abruptly cut off by Isabela’s treading on her foot. “Ow…” She looked up at the pirate in confusion.

“I’m so sorry, sweet thing.” Isabela all but cooed. “You’d better sit down. Sebastian will be able to find Hawke all on his own, won’t you, Sebastian?” 

Sebastian couldn’t keep from smiling. Things had certainly been less lively without Isabela around. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He said dryly. As he left he wondered if Isabela’s undisguisedly delighted look should worry him.

He followed the stream until it widened into a small dark pool. Boy was lying on the ground near the water’s edge and lifted his head when Sebastian approached, but seeing who it was, lowered it again. Sebastian looked out at the water and failed to see her at first, but then a flash of pale skin froze him in place, and he understood Isabela’s look all too well. 

Why had it not occurred to him that she would be swimming nude?

She was facing away from him watching as the sun disappeared behind the hills, standing in hip deep water, her hair loose down her back. Wet it looked darker than usual, and reached almost to her hips. She was trailing her hands in the water beside her, still watching the sun, and as it vanished she suddenly dove, submerging completely, only to pop up a moment later several yards away. He moved back to the trees, suddenly grateful for his new black leathers that let him blend into the shadows, and simply watched her for a few minutes. He was too far away to catch more than glimpses of pale skin and dim outlines of soft curves, just suggestions, but even so she took his breath away. She stood and began to wade towards the shore. He took an almost involuntary step forwards and stepped on a twig. 

She immediately ducked down into the water. “Who’s there?” She called out.

“It’s Sebastian.” He stepped out from the trees. “I came to see what was keeping you.”

“Oh thank the Maker. That explains Boy’s lack of response.” She smiled at him as he approached. “I heard the noise and it occurred to me it wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve done, swimming by myself on Sundermount, with all my clothes and weapons out of reach...” 

Her voice trailed off and he couldn’t help the small smile that curved his lips.

She saw it and swallowed nervously, her heart suddenly racing. “I have no clothes on.” 

His eyes twinkled. “I have to admit I had noticed.” He walked closer.

She could feel herself blushing and wondered if he could tell in the dim light. “I didn’t think you’d come looking for me.” 

He crouched down at the water’s edge. “I did.”

Her cheeks were burning now. “Yes.” She said. Now that the sun was down it was quickly growing cooler on the mountain top and when a gentle breeze blew she shivered. “I’m cold.” She said softly looking up at him.

She was nervous, he could tell, but desire was there as well. If he were to pursue this…

He was tempted. Dear Maker he was tempted. Tempted to wade into the water and pull her out. Even more tempted to make her walk to him. She was watching him like a rabbit who’d been cornered by a fox, and Andraste help him, he liked it. _Soon_ , he told himself. _Soon_. 

He gave her a smile that made her heart race even faster and then turned, so his back was to her. She quickly scooted out of the water, and pulled on her shirt and trousers. 

“You can turn around.” She said trying to ignore her still sopping wet hair dripping water down her back.

He turned and looked down at her. Her cheeks were bright pink. She shivered suddenly and he pulled her close. 

“Better?” He asked, pushing back a damp tendril of hair from her cheek.

“Much.” She said moving closer to him and letting herself breathe him in, feel the warmth and the strength of him. She felt his lips on the top of her head.

After a moment he pulled back slightly still keeping her in the circle of his arms. “Tell me what Marethari said."

A shadow crossed her face. “She knew what had been done to me. She could sense it. She doesn’t know how it was done or anything about these abilities I’ve gained.” 

“So you’ve learned nothing new?” He asked with a frown.

She leaned her forehead against his chest. “It’s my fault Da died so young.” She said, so low he had to strain to hear it.

For a moment he didn’t say anything and then he led her over to where Boy was lying, and sat on the ground pulling her down beside him and settling her between his legs, leaning against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. “Tell me.” 

She sighed and turned her head so her cheek lay against his chest. “What the book said? About life and blood being used? I was right. It was blood magic. Da did blood magic.” Even repeating the words out loud, it still seemed impossible, but she pushed that aside. “It was more than that though. The spell required life, life force, Merethari called it. The Tevinter mages used others. Da used his own.” Her eyes were suddenly brimming with tears. As soon as the words had left her mouth she seemed to press closer against him and he tightened his hold on her, knowing that was what she needed.

“I’m sorry, Ana.” 

“I was angry with him when he got sick. I didn’t understand why he couldn’t cure himself. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t seem to care. I wanted him to fight, to try at least, but he seemed to just give up.”

Malcolm Hawke had been a remarkable man, that much was clear. “He loved you very much.”

“I know.” She said softly. “It’s another dead end though. I know what it cost him, I know why he did it, but nothing else. I wish he’d told me. I wish it hadn’t been a surprise.”

He smoothed her hair back. “Perhaps he meant to when you were older. You were what, sixteen when he died?”

“Seventeen.” She paused for a moment. “He died on my birthday.” She said, almost absently.

Sebastian tightened his hold on her. “I’m sorry. Is that why you don’t celebrate it?”

“It’s not a happy day for me.” She tilted her head back and looked at him. “How did you know I don’t celebrate it?” She asked.

“I’ve been with you almost constantly for more than a year. At the state dinner when we first met you said you’d be twenty-three in a few weeks, but then there was no mention of it, and no celebration, in spite of the fuss you make over everyone else’s birthday.”

She looked away again. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.” She didn’t appear inclined to say more.

He put his mouth close to her ear. “So when is it?”

She hesitated for a moment. “The eighth of Justinian.”

He pulled back and looked at her in surprise. “That’s tomorrow.” 

She looked out at the water. “Yes.”

He shook his head. “You’ve given me precious little time, Anabel Hawke.” 

She tilted her head up and gave him a perplexed frown. “Time?”

“To prepare a celebration.”

“It’s not necessary.” She said automatically.

“On the contrary. Celebrating the day that such an extraordinary person came into this world? It’s entirely necessary, as I believe each and every one of your companions would agree. I can’t believe they haven’t figured out your birthday before this.” 

Her lips curved into a smile. “I can be surprisingly vague and evasive when I want to be.” She said. 

“Yes. That I can believe.” He kissed the top of her head. “Come. We should go back to the camp. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)
> 
> And the extraordinarily talented Jin of Brushfiredaisyart has drawn another picture of Anabel which can be found [here](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/post/74197796277/fellow-tumblr-peoples-i-give-you-anabel-esme)


	7. Flower Crowns and Assassins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and her companions battle the varterral and meet an Antivan assassin before returning to Hawke's mansion to celebrate her birthday.

There was a time that he had dreamed of life among the Dalish. When he was young, and had been barely tolerated in that whorehouse in Antiva. Later, when he slept packed into one uncomfortable bed with the other boys being trained by the Crows.

That was a time when living in the countryside, far from the smells of tanning leather and chamber pots emptied into the alley outside, sounded like the most perfect of lives. When the idea of camping in the wilderness, in a tent or a cave, seemed the height of adventure.

That time had been many years ago, thought Zevran, as he picked yet another rock out from beneath his bedroll. 

Even the time spent travelling through Ferelden with the Warden had been more tolerable than this. Say what you would about that year, it had never been dull.

Waiting for Nuncio to get off his increasingly large behind and make his move? That was growing tedious indeed.

It had been days now. Was Nuncio truly such a coward? Had Zevran’s own reputation grown so fearsome that the great Nuncio Caldera Lanos was afraid to face him head on?

The trap had been in place for some time now. Pressure traps, claw traps, and a careful trail all leading down to the other occupant of this cave; the one Zevran had not introduced himself to.

It was only because Nell Cousland had told him of her own encounter with such a creature years before that he had even known what it was, and known to give it a very wide berth. But as he had waited for Nuncio to appear he had realized that perhaps he could make use of the creature’s presence in the cave, and he had adjusted his traps and plans accordingly. 

Alas, the best laid plans of the best of assassins come to naught if the victim simply fails to arrive, he thought trying to shape his pack into something resembling a pillow. 

And then he heard it. Voices. Movement. And, he marked with a pleased smile, the sound of a pressure trap going off. He got to his feet, and grabbed his weapons, heading for the smaller tunnel down to where his somewhat recalcitrant cave-mate kept itself. He was curious to see what Nuncio’s reaction to such a creature would be.

 

“Why is this thing still here? Didn’t I kill it once already?” Someone shouted. Not Nuncio. A girl’s voice. No, he corrected himself, a woman’s voice, but young and she sounded exasperated rather than afraid. An interesting reaction, he thought. 

“Less talking, more killing.” A second woman yelled. No. Could it be? He knew that voice, knew it well, but the last he had heard she had been far from Kirkwall, and she had never been one to commune with nature any more than he. 

But if Isabela was in Kirkwall then he suspected he knew who the other woman was, and he had not intended to trap either of them with his deadly friend. He began to run faster hoping to reach them in time to assist with slaying the varterral, but to his surprise when he reached the large chamber it was already dead. 

“Is everyone all right?” The girl’s voice asked.

The group in the cavern was preoccupied with just catching their breath and so he had a moment to look at them unobserved, and he had to say he was impressed.

They were a stunning bunch: in point of fact he’d rarely seen a group of such frankly beautiful people, and he had travelled with Nell and Alistair and their companions. If one were honest though, the Wardens’ was a beauty due in part to the strength and power that both of them exuded. His friends tended to look slightly awkward when not in their armor, or brandishing their weapons. 

Isabela’s companions on the other hand would have been beautiful no matter where you put them or what you put them in. 

“I would have been quite happy without having to battle that thing a second time, but all things considered, yes.” This from the archer, a tall man in black leathers, with chestnut hair and the most vivid, blue eyes Zevran had ever seen. A man who would have been almost too pretty, were it not for the patrician nose and the strong line of his jaw. He smiled at the girl who had spoken, and looked even more handsome. From the accent and the warmth of the look he was giving the Champion he must be the Starkhaven prince who was rumored to be her constant companion.

“I agree.” Came a growl from the other side of the cavern. An elven warrior, taller than most elves, and judging from the size of the sword he carried, stronger as well. He had a shock of white hair and exotic white tattoos that seemed to shimmer more than tattoos should, apparently over his entire body. 

“Did anyone else think he seemed bigger this time?” asked a small female elf, a mage, he thought marking the staff she held, and a Dalish he suspected, with black hair and enormous green eyes and a slightly hesitant manner reminiscent of some timid woodland creature. She was creeping closer to the varterral as if she were not quite certain it had been defeated.

“He certainly seemed crankier.” Said the girl dryly.

“Oh, but look what he’s left us for our trouble.” Isabela sighed happily.

Zevran couldn’t help smiling. Darling Isabela, looking as toothsome and lush as ever, and already poking through the varterral’s treasure.

He turned his attentions to the Champion once more. She had had her back to him when he first arrived, and other than a thick braid of red hair down her back he’d not seen her clearly. She turned, and Zevran’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he got his first good look at her. 

She was truly lovely. Exquisite, like one of the porcelain dolls sold in toy shops back in Antiva City. He had met his share of deadly females in the day, but never had he seen one who looked so completely harmless, who looked as if it was she who needed protecting rather than the other way around. He suddenly wished he could have seen the battle with the Arishok, just to have seen how that had played out, for it seemed a ridiculous notion that she could have bested him. Pale flawless skin, which looked all the paler against the flaming red hair, and a lush red mouth with a full upper lip that kept the face from being too sweet, lips so lush in fact that one couldn’t help but think of all the things that could be done with them. She was a small for a human, barely bigger than the elf mage, in perfectly fitted leathers of a deep green and somewhat incongruously was wearing a wreath of vivid red poppies on her head. He couldn’t help but smile as he wondered what had inspired that particular accessory. He watched as she crossed to the varterral’s corpse.

“Why is it that nothing on Sundermount ever seems to stay dead?” She asked as she nudged the varterral’s corpse with her toe. “Flemeth, the varterral.” She crouched down next to it, examining it more closely.

“I don’t think the varterral is really alive, Hawke, not the way we think about it, anyway.” Said the Dalish elf. 

“Flemeth?” The archer asked. 

Zevran saw the Champion close her eyes briefly. “It’s a long story. Remind me to tell you it later.” She said so matter of factly that had you not been watching her face you wouldn’t have known that it was a story she hadn’t wanted to share with the man. Flemeth. That was a name he had not heard in quite some time. And apparently alive again. He made a note to include that bit of information in his next letter to Nell.

The girl, and as small as she was he had trouble thinking of her as a woman, stood and straightened the flower crown on her head, and as if she felt him watching her from the shadows she turned suddenly and looked directly at him. _Sposa del Creatore_ , he thought, her eyes were magnificent. Absolutely unforgettable, the most vivid blue and green that he had ever seen, mixed together. Her expression didn’t change but her weapons were drawn almost before he had realized she’d moved. Fast, then. Very fast.

“Now you I wasn’t expecting.” He said keeping his voice casual and walking closer, his hands held open before him so she could see he held no weapon. 

“Zevran?” Isabela sounded as surprised by his appearance as he had been by hers. She walked over to stand beside the Champion. “I thought I smelled Antivan leather! Shouldn’t you be dead by now?” She asked with an arch of her eyebrow.

He threw back his head and laughed. “Ah, Isabela. It’s been too long.” He turned back to Hawke, an entirely inappropriate name for such a delicate beauty, unless one looked her directly in the eye when she brandished her weapons. She had lowered her daggers to her side, but hadn’t put them away. “I must admit I was waiting for an assault by the Crows, not the mighty Champion of Kirkwall.” He said carefully.

She looked at him, a look that seemed to see everything and then at Isabela, and then at him once more, before re-sheathing her blades.

Her two male companions had come up behind her as they’d spoken, and looked much less inclined to trust him so readily. She gave them a reassuring smile and they relaxed slightly. She turned back to Zevran. “How do you know I’m the Champion?” She asked. “I could just have been having a summer picnic on Sundermount and have decided on a whim to explore this charming cave.” 

What a voice she had. Rich and sweet, and meant for darker things than witty banter. “Your crown of flowers would seem to support such a tale.” He said with a grin.

She looked confused and her hand groped at her head as if she’d forgotten what she wore there, and then she smiled back at him, revealing a delightful dimple near the corner of her mouth. “It’s my birthday, actually.” She admitted. “Merrill was kind enough to make me a crown for the day.” She smiled at the Dalish elf, who looked pleased by the acknowledgement. 

“A lovely young woman merely picnicking on the side of a mountain would be unlikely to have the skills to slay a creature out of legend.” He pointed out. “But that Champion of Kirkwall, a Slayer of Qunari and a Deep Roads explorer could slay such a beast? Now that I could believe. I must say, though, I thought the tales of the Champion’s good looks must be exaggerated, but here you are, a beauty to make the gods jealous.”

To his delight she blushed and he couldn’t keep from laughing out loud. She had accepted his praise of her fighting skills easily. Comments on her appearance left her flustered. She was a fascinating creature. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Zevran Aranai. Zev, to my friends.” 

She tilted her head as she looked at him. “And how do you know Isabela?” She asked. 

“How does anyone know Isabela?” He said with a wicked twinkle in his eyes that made Hawke laugh out loud. 

Isabela just scowled at them both. “You’ll never know Isabela again if you keep that up.” 

Hawke’s eyes suddenly widened. “Wait, you’re that Zevran? The Crow assassin who travelled with the Wardens and helped defeat the Blight in Fereldan?” The rest of her companions looked at him as if revising their opinion.

“Indeed.” He said. “Though I am no longer a Crow – a fact they seem to find unacceptable.” 

“And is that why they’re after you?” She asked. “Simply because you wished to part ways with them?”

“I may have killed the last four assassins they sent after me.” He admitted. “And their men. Oh, and the Guildmaster.”

He was so unapologetically unrepentant that Anabel had to hide a smile. “You aren’t at all what I expected from their description.” She admitted.

“Let me guess. A man named Nuncio asked you to find me. Or did he tell you he was a lawman from Antiva charged with apprehending a ridiculously handsome fugitive?”

“He called himself an Antivan nobleman, actually. And he said you were a wanted murderer.” 

“Ah Nuncio, his disguises have grown more ambitious. As for the other, I have indeed murdered my fair share of men, though I imagine everyone here can say the same.” 

“That’s one way to look at it, I suppose.” She was still giving him an appraising look. “So what should I do with you?” She murmured almost to herself.

“Well,” He suggested, “You can either tie me up, gag me, and manhandle me, or….” He let his voice trail off.

“Or?” She prompted.

“Or you can take me to Nuncio.” She laughed and blushed at the same time, and he couldn’t help smiling at the unexpected reaction. “So, which will it be my lovely Champion?” 

Her archer moved to stand directly behind her, his expression still calm but his eyes no longer quite as serene, and firmly fixed on Zevran now, watching him closely.

Ah, thought Zevran. So the rumors of their association were true.

She didn’t turn to look at the man, but as if she could sense his presence behind her she moved slightly back so she was leaning against him and his hands came to rest lightly on her shoulders. “You’re very compliant for a fugitive.” She commented.

“Yes.” Zevran agreed. “And very bendy.”

Anabel couldn’t help laughing. He was every bit as bad as Isabela. “I like you.” She announced.

Zevran smiled. “The feeling is more than mutual, Champion.” He said and watched from the corner of his eye as the archer’s jaw clenched.

Unaware of the prince’s reaction she turned to Isabela. “You know him best, Izzy. What do you think?” 

Isabela gave an unconcerned shrug as if she’d been bored by the whole conversation. “I’ve had better.” 

Hawke blinked at her for a moment and then she burst out laughing. “Oh, Izzy. I have missed you.” She flung her arms around the pirate and hugged her before pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I meant about letting him go or not, you wicked woman.” 

Isabela put an arm around Anabel’s shoulder as they both looked at Zevran. “I’d let him go.”

Hawke nodded in agreement. “Yes. That seems the right thing to do.”

Zevran gave them a small bow. “You have my thanks. You should probably deal with Nuncio, however.” He cautioned. “He won’t appreciate your generosity as I do.” He left them without another word, hoping to gather his things together and get to Nuncio’s camp before they did, more than curious to see how she handled the Crow. 

Perfectly as it turned out. More perfectly than he would have expected.

“I let your assassin go. Was I not supposed to do that?” She asked Nuncio, all wide-eyed innocence, as the man spluttered his outrage. 

Zevran made his presence known, and as skilled as Nuncio and his men were, they never had a chance.

“Is everyone all right?” Hawke asked, bending down to pick up her flower crown. She looked around. Surprisingly they all were. She frowned as she brushed the sand off of the wreath. 

Zevran was staring at her oddly. He’d known she must be skilled, but still he had not expected her to demonstrate those particular skills. Where on Thedas had she learned it? He needed to find out more about this Champion who was proving to be so surprising. “Once again I thank you, Champion, but I’m afraid I must take my leave of you.” He announced. 

Hawke looked at him in surprise. His tone was as light as before but he had a frown on his face that she didn’t quite understand. Before she could ask him about it, Isabela had interrupted.

“That’s it? What about sex?” The pirate sounded positively outraged. 

“Ah Isabela, my beauty.” Zevran said apologetically. “Of course.” 

Hawke's eyes widened as the two began to move away from the group. They didn’t mean to…

“Why does it seem like a bad idea to put those two together?” Sebastian commented under his breath to Fenris, who let out a small laughter, though he had a small frown on his face as he watched them start to walk away. 

Hawke just goggled at them both. “What, just like that? Right here? With all of us just standing around waiting for…. Maker’s sake, Isabela, the poor man’s been living in a cave for days. At least bring him back to the Hanged Man and give him a bath and a meal and a comfortable bed to...” Her voice trailed off as she tried to think of how to finish that sentence. Everyone had turned to stare at her, and she felt her cheeks begin to burn. Okay, that had probably been an odd thing to say, but no odder than Isabela’s “what about sex?” line. Maker, did people really just come out and demand it like that? People other than Isabela. And apparently Zevran. And why was everyone staring at her like that?. She shoved the flower crown defiantly back on her head and glared back at them. 

Zevran couldn’t help laughing. “My lovely Champion. I must admit a meal and a bath and a bed all sound quite appealing. Kind and practical, as well as beautiful. Are you certain you wouldn’t wish to join us?” 

The smile Sebastian had been trying to hide vanished. “She’s quite certain.” He said, moving to stand behind her and placing one hand lightly on her hip.

She tilted her head back to look at him and had to reach up to keep the crown from falling off again. He was staring coldly at Zevran and she couldn’t keep from smiling as she looked back at Zevran. “It’s a lovely offer, Zev, but one I’m afraid I must decline.” She leaned back against Sebastian putting her hand on top of his. His other hand came to rest on her shoulder.

The elf winked at her. “It seems once again I have been bested by a prince.” The prince’s eyes were still fixed on him, but his hand moved to the girl’s neck and without looking down his fingers caressed her bare skin briefly. Zevran saw her shiver as she leaned into the touch and then blush again when she saw Zevran watching her. Interesting. This prince was no bumbling virgin as his friend Alistair had been, but the girl was? He made a note to ask Isabela about the two. 

“They’re hopeless.” Isabela informed him when they lay tangled in her sheets several hours later. “It’s been more than a year. They eyefuck each other all over Kirkwall, but nothing ever comes of it.”

“I think perhaps it has gone farther than that.” He turned to his side, propping his head on his elbow. He trailed a hand slowly down Isabela’s spine.

Her eyes closed, savoring the touch. Zevran was so very good at the touches. Oh, she liked a good pounding as much as the next girl, but sometimes it was nice to be with someone who was about the details. “Oh every so often you find them kissing. They need a good kick in the pants, the two of them. Or maybe to have their pants taken away all together.” She turned her head and opened one eye, giving the elf an appraising glance. “Or maybe jealousy would do the trick. It would be the best birthday present ever for her, and one that’s long overdue. The party would be the perfect place for it. Hawke’s place has got any number of bedrooms he could haul her off to.” Hawke had included Zevran in the invitation to her birthday celebration when they’d parted ways earlier.

He just laughed and smoothed his palm over the curve of her behind. Isabela had the most luscious curves. “You want me to seduce the Champion of Kirkwall at her birthday celebration, with her suitor standing by?” Though Sebastian’s face had shown nothing when Hawke had issued the invitation, he suspected the man was less than thrilled with his inclusion. “The Crows might prove less troublesome.”

“Don’t be silly. I’d stab your eyes out if you did, and I wouldn’t be the first in line either. Just…flirt a bit. Make it obvious you find her attractive. Sexually attractive.” She clarified. “Maybe that’ll give Sebastian the push he needs.”

“Isabela.” Zevran said in a warning voice.

“You used to love flirting with a pretty girl. Or don’t you think Hawke’s pretty?”

“She’s gorgeous, as well you know. And deadly.” He wondered again how she had gained those skills. He had never heard her named connected with the Crows. Such knowledge was supposed to be secret though of course he himself had divulged it to others. Perhaps she had learned it in the same way. “What do you know of the Champion before she came to Kirkwall?” He asked idly.

“Maker’s tits, stop calling her that. She’s just Hawke. I don’t know. She grew up on a farm somewhere in Fereldan. Was in the army for a bit. Worked for the Red Iron for a year.”

None of which explained her all too familiar style of fighting. 

“Why are you so interested anyway?” Isabela asked suspiciously and he realized he had left his hand unmoving on her behind for some moments. 

He resumed his caress and leaned forward to place a kiss on her shoulder. “I am always interested in beauties.” He said.

Isabela scoffed and then squirmed as Zevran’s hand slipped between her thighs. “If you do it I’ll make it worth your while.” She said more breathily than she would have liked.

He leaned in closer to her, the movement letting his finger slid deeper. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “I believe you’re planning to do that anyway, no?” He whispered in her ear. 

They ended up being late to Hawke’s party. 

Hawke came running up to greet them when they did arrive. She’d changed into a simply cut gown in a warm red silk that left her shoulders bare, and still wore the wreath of poppies on her head, though they were beginning to droop a bit.

“Why on Thedas have you still got that thing on?” Isabela asked trying to grab it off.

Hawke easily eluded her. “Leave it! It’s been years since someone made me a flower crown for my birthday. I’m not taking it off until my birthday’s over.” She said laughing.

“Ooh. There’s Anders. I need to talk to him.” Isabela was gone before they realized what she had said. 

Hawke turned back to Zevran with a smile and slipped her arm through his as she led him into the room. “Did you get a bath and some rest, at least?” 

“I did, _muñeca_. You need not worry on that account.” 

“And you’ll be safe in Kirkwall for now? It’ll take time for word to get back to the Crows, won’t it?” She sounded genuinely concerned.

“Indeed. I’m touched by your concern.” And surprised, for it seemed sincere. She had a generous heart, this one.

Isabela had returned dragging Anders behind her. “Oh Hawke’s just a mother hen, clucking over all of us.”

Anabel rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Isabela, that makes me sound ever so attractive. This is Anders.” She told Zevran. “He used to know the Warden as well.” 

“A pleasure.” The man inclined his head in response and Zevran looked at him with interest. Anders. Nell had talked of an Anders, a mage she recruited to the Wardens that year she was in Amaranthine. Why had he thought the man had died? Something else to mention the next time he wrote. 

“What made you decide to leave the Crows?” Hawke asked suddenly.

Zevran turned back to her with a smile. “We had a difference of opinion. I accepted a contract and found I had no desire to end the lives of those named.” 

“The Warden Commander tells it a bit differently.” Anders commented dryly.

“Ah, lovely Nell. She’s not one to mince words. Alas, it’s true. She may have bested me in battle and had me tied up and at her mercy when I reached that decision.”

“But you ended up traveling with her until the Blight was over.” Said Hawke. “And you never did fulfill the contract.” 

“True enough.” Said Zevran with a laugh. “As I said, she is lovely, and quite persuasive, with words as well as weapons, much like you, _cara_. And now I count among my friends the King and Queen of Fereldan. For an orphan who began his life in the lowest brothels of Antiva City this is quite an achievement, no?” 

He looked around as saw to his surprise that the mage was scowling at him. He was jealous, Zevran realized. But was it jealousy over Nell or the Champion? 

There were a hundred questions Anabel wanted to ask Zevran about that year, but before she could Isabela had interrupted. “Where’s Sebastian?” She asked looking around with a frown.

“Vespers service at the Chantry. He’ll be back soon.” She added wondering why Isabela looked disappointed.

“Oh.” Definitely disappointed, Anabel decided, and wondered just what Izzy was up to.

Isabel noticed Hawke watching her and smile brightly. “Well, never mind. Anders and I have a birthday present for you.” She held out a small velvet pouch. 

Anabel took it and opened it revealing a pair of earrings, teardrop shaped rubies the size of the nail on her little finger. “Sweet Andraste, Isabela. Where on Thedas did these come from?”

“Oh don’t look at me like that. It’s perfectly legitimate. I nicked them from our spindley friend earlier today. Aren’t they gorgeous?”

“They’re beautiful.” Anabel agreed, holding them up to the light. There were small emeralds in the gold setting as well. “They truly are, but you know I don’t have pierced ears.” 

“That’s my part of the present, actually.” Said Anders. “If it is, in fact, something that you want.”

Her hands automatically went to her ears. “You’re going to pierce my ears for my birthday?”

“Yes.” Said Isabela enthusiastically, at exactly the same moment as Anders said “Only if you want.” 

She looked back and forth between them, and then held the earrings up to the light again. She smiled. “Yes. Yes, please.”

She and Anders ended up in the library while Isabela went in search of Orana and a needle. They left Zevran with Varric and Merrill and Fenris, and Bodahn who had been delighted to see the elf. They were busy reminiscing about their time with the Warden, while Merrill listened wide-eyed, Fenris looked skeptical, and Varric took notes.

Anders sat down in the chair opposite her, brushing her curls out of the way. 

“It’s not going to hurt, is it?” She asked apprehensively.

He just rolled his eyes. “This from the woman who gets stabbed on a regular basis.”

“Well it sounds ridiculous when you put it that way. Thank you for doing this.” She said with a smile.

“I’m glad I could give you something for your birthday since you sprang it on us like this.” He commented. “You’ve never celebrated it before now.”

“It was the day Da died.” She said simply, and he nodded, understanding immediately. “You never celebrate yours either.” She commented. She’d wondered about that. He’d been old enough when he’d been sent to the Circle to remember what day it was. 

“No. I come from dirt poor farmers. Birthdays were never big events. And when I was taken to the Circle….” His voice trailed off before he seemed to give himself a shake. “Let’s just say I became a different person that day. The birthday of the person I had been didn’t matter anymore.” He picked up a bottle of disinfecting potion, pure alcohol distilled from grain and dipping a cloth in it carefully cleaned her earlobe. When he moved to the other one he could see her blinking back tears.

“I’m sorry.” She said.

He smiled. “You’re too sensitive by half, Hawke. It’s been more than twenty years. It’s…” He’d been about to say it was all right, but she would see that lie. “I’ve accepted it.” 

“It doesn’t make it any less awful.” She pointed out.

“No.” He agreed. “Did you learn anything from Marethari?” He asked. 

She let him change the subject. “Nothing that tells me what these strange powers I have are. But other things, yes.”

“Marethari knew what had been done.” He made it a statement. 

“She knew it had been done. Not how it was done.” She watched him for a moment before asking. “Have you ever heard of a magic that required life force?”

He put the potion back on the table and frowned. “You mean blood magic?” 

“No, a magic that required ‘life force’ as an ingredient. Marethari was very specific.”

He frowned trying to decide what Marethari had meant, if she quite literally meant that spark, that energy that every healer could feel when they worked. “I’ve never heard it referred to that way. That’s what the spell called for?”

“ _Through sacrifice of blood and life_.” She quoted. “Blood magic was part of it.” She gave a small shudder. “Da did blood magic. It seems impossible. He hated it, he would go on and on about it, about the evil it required.” She was quiet for a moment and then looked up at him. “A spell that powerful would have required a lot of blood wouldn’t it? Too much for him to use his own, as Merrill does.” 

_Shit_ , thought Anders, wanting to be able to give her any answer other than the one that he knew to be the truth. “Yes.”

She nodded, unsurprised. “And he did it in secret. It’s not like he would have had volunteers lining up to offer their blood.” She didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t want to think Da would use someone like that. The image of the tables in the Holding Cave, with the channels for collecting every drop of blood flashed in her mind and she closed her eyes, willing it away. She felt Anders’ hand on her face, and she opened them again, looking up at him.

“You don’t know how he did it, Hawke. He was a good man. There might be any number of explanations. You don’t know for certain.” Anders said sternly. 

She blinked rapidly but it didn’t keep her eyes from filling with tears and overflowing this time, trailing down her cheeks. “He used his own life force for the spell.” She whispered. “That’s why he died so young.” 

Anders hand dropped from her face and he stared at her, knowing far better than she what force of will it would take. Would he be able to do it himself?

The answer came almost immediately. Yes. To protect his unborn child from the Templars and the Chantry? To know that your mage child would be forever safe from them? Yes. Without question, yes.

_That is why she is a danger. She holds the knowledge within her._

Anders stared at her, her brilliant eyes looking up at him, more green than blue right now, the bright curls escaping from her braid and he ached for her, in every way.

Justice was wrong. It wasn’t what had been done to her that was the danger. It was that his yearning for her would eclipse everything else. 

When he didn’t say anything she reached a hand up and wiped at her eyes. “That’s why he couldn’t heal himself, I suppose. There wasn’t enough of this life force left to heal or no way to replenish it or something of the sort. I suppose it’s a good thing Leandra never found out about that.” She said trying to make a joke of it. “She would finally have something she could justifiably blame me for.”

That snapped him out of his thoughts. “This is not your fault.” 

She gave him an admonishing look. “I didn’t do it on purpose, but I don’t think we can say it’s not my fault.” She gave him a wistful smile. “It’s okay. I’ve accepted it.” She said echoing his earlier words,

He reached out a hand and stroked her cheek. “That doesn’t make it any less awful.” 

"No." She agreed. "It doesn't." 

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. There were so many things he wanted to say to her. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Isabela and Orana had returned. 

 

Sebastian had arrived by the time Anders had finished. Anabel had been showing the others how the earrings looked when she saw Sebastian in the doorway and immediately went running to him going up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Look!” She said, turning her head so he could see. “Look what Isabela and Anders gave me for my birthday. Aren’t they beautiful?” 

Sebastian couldn’t help smiling. “Yes, beautiful.” He answered not looking at the earrings. 

Zevran watched the two carefully as the evening progressed. They barely had eyes for anyone else. When they weren’t next to each other they kept a constant watch, exchanging glances that left little doubt about their feelings. And not all the looks were chaste. He was quite frankly confused as to why they weren’t sleeping together yet.

And so he did as Isabela wished. He flirted outrageously with her, but she simply laughed, or blushed, and completely ignored any innuendo. He still had trouble believing she was a virgin. First Alistair, now the Champion; it confirmed his belief that Fereldans were far too repressed about such things. 

The prince voiced no protest at the flirting, but Zevran could tell he didn’t like it and, if it went much further probably wouldn’t tolerate it. 

He turned back to Hawke. “So tell me, my lovely champion, how is it you were trained as a Crow assassin?”

The room went silent. Everyone turned to look at Hawke.

She looked startled first, and then triumphant. “I knew it! I knew they weren’t acrobats!” She gave the Sebastian a brilliant smile. “I told you they were Crows.”

He smiled back at her and Zevran could almost warm his hands on the affection in those eyes. “You did.”

She turned back to Zevran and quickly explained the story of the Antivan ‘acrobats’ that her father had healed.

As strange as the story was, it made perfect sense. He wondered what business the Crows would have had in Ferelden, so far south that they were almost in the Kokari Wilds more than a decade ago, but truly he had other concerns with the Crows that were far more pressing. “That explains your skill, _cara_. But I have another question.” He gave her a careful look. “It is my understanding that your hand was injured when you dueled the Arishok.”

“Yes.” She marveled at the details that seemed to have spread so far across Thedas. “How many bones did I break again Anders?” She asked the mage who was seated further down the table.

“Fourteen.” Anders answered immediately.

 _Brasca_. The man should be more careful, thought Zevran. The mage had been staring at her throughout the meal, giving her looks that hid nothing of his feelings for her, hanging on her every word. No one else paid it any attention and he realized they knew. All of them knew the man was in love with her: all except the Champion herself, who seemed entirely unaware. There would be trouble later on if it were not dealt with, he thought.

“Fourteen.” Hawke repeated, almost proudly. “And the lesson to be learned from that is never give a Qunari an opportunity to step on your hand, especially not if you’ve made him angry first.” Her eyes twinkled when she spoke, as if it were a great joke. Her companions seemed far less entertained, he thought looking at them.

“A good lesson indeed.” He said with a smile, returning his gaze to her. He couldn’t help being impressed by her. He didn’t think he’d ever encountered someone with such a gift for joyfulness. _Born with the gift of laughter_. He’d heard the phrase somewhere, and had thought at the time it meant an ability to laugh in the world’s face, a way to show your defiance. Perhaps he had been wrong. Perhaps instead it meant the ability to find joy in life no matter what the world threw at you, and he wanted suddenly to protect that, to keep her from ever losing it. Interesting that in all the stories one heard about the champion none of them mentioned this almost childlike joy that she had. 

Was that the secret to the devotion she inspired? Because it was clear that all of her companions were completely and utterly devoted to her. Now that was a ability for which to thank the gods, he thought with a smile. “Shall I tell you which hand it was that was injured?” He reached out, pretending to waver between the two for a moment and then picked up her left hand, holding it in his palm, and stroking it gently. “This one, is it not?” 

“Yes.” She tilted her head and gave him an admiring look that was all the more enticing because she was utterly unaware of the affect those magnificent eyes had on a person. “How did you know?” She asked.

“I watched you when you fought earlier. You favor your right hand. The blows you strike with this hand are not as strong.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw the prince, the healer, and her fighting partner sit up straighter. As he’d suspected, they hadn’t been aware of it.

She pulled her hand back with a frown. “It’s not my dominant hand. Of course it’s not as strong.”

“Ah, my champion, we both know that’s not the reason.” 

She flushed. “My grip isn’t as strong as it was. I’m hoping it will improve.”

He made a tsking noise. For a rogue she was an appallingly bad liar, something that confirmed more than anything that she was not an agent of the Crows. “It’s more than that. It pains you, yes? When you strike? It’s difficult to keep a proper hold of the weapon?”

She shot a nervous glance at the others. They were all frowning at her. “I was going to tell you.” She said in a placating voice.

“Anabel Hawke.” Said the prince in a warning voice.

“This was the first time I’ve done anything more than spar since the Arishok.” She insisted. “It’s not like I was hiding it.” She flushed at the lie, and cursed her fair skin. She sighed and turned back to Zevran. “You’ve gotten me in trouble now, Zev.”

“My apologies _muñeca_ , that was not my intent. But I may have a solution, if you will excuse me.” He left the table and returned to the entry to retrieve and unwrap the blade he’d taken from Nuncio’s camp. He’d intended to deliver it to the Crows in Antiva as a message, but it was too fine a blade for that. He returned to the room to find the Champion now surrounded by the three men all of whom seemed to be lecturing. The healer was examining her hand, the elf was scowling, and the prince looking disapproving. 

“I wasn’t keeping anything from any of you.” She was insisting. 

“You had no inkling about this when we practiced?” Fenris asked, his skepticism plain.

She scowled. “I’ve said it wasn’t as strong as it used to be.”

Anders gave a snort. “And you expect me to believe that it only hurt you today? It was just fine while you were sparring?”

She flushed again and didn’t answer. Before the others could reprimand her he walked to her side. 

“A birthday gift, my dear Champion.” He said laying the blade before her. “ _Pugnale a doppia lama_ , or simply _doppia lama_. It balances quite differently from a dagger, but I believe the distribution will be less of a strain on your hand."

Her eyes lit up at the sight of it, and he gave a satisfied smile. Here was someone who appreciated a fine blade. “It’s beautiful.” She said, with as much pleasure as she had shown for the ruby earrings she now wore.

“It belonged to a beautiful but deadly Crow assassin named Callisto di Bastion. She went by the name of Finesse and that is what the blade is called. Selfishly Nuncio had been keeping it to himself, though he lacked the skill to use such a weapon, and in any case it is designed for someone far smaller than he.” Someone just the champion’s size, if he was not mistaken. He lifted it in both hands and held it out to her. “Try it. See how it feels in your hand.”

She tried it first in her right hand, giving it a few experimental sweeps. A slow smile spread across her face. She switched to her left and the smile grew bigger.

“Ah…you like it.” He said with knowing smile.

“Show me.” She demanded. “Show me how to use it.” 

Ignoring the protests of the others, she ordered them to move the furniture in the main room to clear a space and ran upstairs yanking her dress off and pulling on some worn leather trousers and a red silk shirt. Her flower crown had fallen to the floor and she picked it up, placing it on her dressing table and smiled when she saw her reflection with the gems in her earrings catching the light, before she ran back downstairs.

The next half an hour she ignored everyone but Zevran and the feeling of the new weapon in her hand. “Could you fight with two of these?” She asked him eagerly when she finally stopped to catch her breath.

“I do not know of anyone who does, but yes, I think it could be done, with practice, if you were swift enough and had enough control.”

“And do I?” She asked eagerly, those magnificent eyes gazing at him. 

He was happy to be able to give her the answer she so obviously wanted to hear. “Yes, _mi muñeca_. I believe you do. Your ‘acrobat’ friends trained you well.” 

With a delighted laugh she threw her arms around him with such enthusiasm that even Zevran was startled. He couldn’t help laughing as he returned the hug, even as his eyes met the prince’s over the top of her head.

Those vivid blue eyes were carefully neutral as they watched him, and Zevran kept a pleasant smile on his own face.

Hawke pulled away and turning, ran to Sebastian jumping up so that he was forced to catch her. She wrapped her legs around his waist. “Did you see? Isn’t it amazing?”

He lifted her so he held her more comfortably. “Amazing.” He agreed resting his head briefly against her forehead. 

And for a moment Zevran wasn’t certain if either of them was aware that anyone else was in the room with them. Ah. So it was that sort of love? Like his friends Nell and Alistair. He felt a brief pang of envy, as he sometimes did with them. And then he smiled. Isabela would be disappointed, no doubt, but he would let the Champion and her prince progress at their own pace. He had no doubt they would get there, and probably soon if he was any judge of such things. 

 

Sebastian closed the door after the last of their friends had left and returned to the main room. Anabel was standing by the table running her hands over her new blade. Sebastian came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“How is it a fugitive elven assassin manages to produce the perfect gift for you at a moment’s notice?” He asked wryly.

She leaned back against him. “You’re my perfect gift.”

“I’m far from perfect.” 

“Far more perfect than I.” She said absently.

“Who will you get to make a matching weapon?” He asked. “Korval?” 

She hesitated. “I was thinking of asking Master Ilen actually. It would mean another trip up Sundermount, but I thought he might be able to fashion one of ironwood.”

“Ironwood?” He repeated. “It’s difficult to find.”

“I found some for him a few years ago. I’m hoping he still has some of it left. It’s amazing stuff but he’s a master at working it. It would be much lighter which would help with my hand. If he agrees to do it. And if he has the ironwood for it. It’ll mean training in a whole different way, using double bladed weapons…” Her voice trailed off and he could tell she was already picturing it, planning it, welcoming the challenge, that her mind was a thousand miles away. 

The Antivan had found the perfect gift for her. “Zevran was quite taken with you.” He’d watched as Zevran had flirted outrageously all evening, and had realized early on that Isabela must have put him up to it. 

“Zevran’s like a male version of Isabela. Terribly naughty and with a heart of gold and he didn’t mean a bit of it.” 

Sebastian knew that but it had still bothered him. She’d enchanted Zevran as she did most people.

She was still fingering the blade, caressing it almost. “The weapons wouldn’t match, but I think it could still work.”

He actually felt a pang of jealousy. He leaned down and put his mouth by her ear, tightening his arms around her. “If you can tear yourself away from your new blade I have a gift for you as well.” He whispered.

She turned her head to look at him. “You couldn’t have had time to get a present.”

“I’ve had it for some time, actually. I was just waiting for you to reveal the date of your birthday.” 

He led her to the library and picked up a brightly wrapped package from the desk where he’d placed it earlier and handed it to her. “It isn’t jewels, or a fine new blade, but it comes with my best wishes for a very happy birthday.” 

She sat on the sofa and untied the ribbon that bound the paper wrapping and he sat beside her, watching her carefully. It was a book: a small leatherbound volume, with gilt on the edges of the pages. She looked at the title stamped on the cover. _Tales of Wonder_.

Her mouth dropped open. It couldn’t be. She opened the book, and turned the pages, flipping past the familiar colored illustrations scattered throughout the book, until she came to the one she remembered. The Prince with eyes bluer than the heavens and the lady he rescued. She stared at it as the memories came pouring back. Reading the story. Da reading her the story in his rich baritone as she snuggled on his lap. She looked over at Sebastian. “How did you even know about this?” 

“Varric mentioned something about a children’s book that you had when you were young, but lost somehow, and when Carver was here at the solstice I asked him what he remembered of it.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “I can only imagine how unhelpful Carver was.”

“Yes.” He admitted. “He’s not a detail oriented individual, your brother. But he told me what he could, and as he did it began to sound familiar. I had a copy of it myself when I was small. After consulting with several of the booksellers in town I found one. It’s not exactly the same of course.”

“It’s perfect.” She said tracing her finger over the picture. “You don’t know how much I loved that book. I’d had it for years, took it with us whenever we fled. It was the one thing I always made sure I had. I cried for days when it was gone.”

“How did you lose it?” He asked, pleased by her reaction to his gift.

She smiled at the memory. “Poor Bethy set fire to it accidentally while she was practicing spells. I didn’t speak to her for a week. Wouldn’t even acknowledge her presence. I’m an awful person.” She climbed into his lap, one leg on either side and leaning forward, she kissed him. “Thank you. This means so much to me. You’ve given me back a piece of my past.”

“As you did, when you found my grandfather’s portrait.” His eyes twinkled suddenly. “Now, Varric did mention something about a prince with eyes bluer than the heavens?” He laughed when her cheeks turned pink.

“One day I will murder that dwarf.” She muttered but she couldn’t help smiling. She picked up the book, flipping through it until she found what she was looking for and handed it to him. “There he is, with the maiden he rescued. When I was little I wanted to be just like them.” 

He took it and laughed. “He looks like a girl.”

She looked outraged. “He’s beautiful!” She exclaimed, laughing and taking the book back from him, she climbed off his lap and sat beside him. “Far prettier than you.” She said. “You’re just jealous that he was my first love.” Looking at the picture she did have to admit the prince in the book was a bit effeminate. 

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “And you’re far prettier than she is.” He said close to her ear. 

“No.” She said, shaking her head. “When I was little I wanted to look just like her. I wanted to have long straight dark hair and beautiful dusky skin, and be tall and stately.”

“I wouldn’t have you any other way.” He told her.

“Short and skinny, with loud red hair that gets everywhere, and no dignity whatsoever?”

“Yes.” He said. 

“That was what you dreamed of when you were a boy?” She asked skeptically.

“Not precisely.” He shifted so he could look directly at her. “I dreamed of a woman who lit up a room when she walked into it. Whose laugh brought a smile to the face of everyone who heard it. Whose brilliant mind was the envy of many a scholar. Whose kind heart and concern for others was a source of constant wonder to all she met. Whose bravery was awe-inspiring.” He reached out and stroked the side of her face. “Much to my amazement I found her, when I’d given up all thought of her. And to my great good fortune not only does she possess all these qualities, but she has the most magnificent flaming red hair I could ever have imagined. Eyes the color of the Rialto Bay. A mouth as red as the poppies she insisted on wearing all day long.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her mouth. “Lips so lush that I’m hard pressed to resist them.” He said, catching one between his own. “Skin like alabaster.” He said letting his lips travel down her neck to her throat, smiling as he felt her pulse racing there. He slipped his hands beneath the scarlet shirt she wore, feeling the softness of her skin, and the heat of her, and now his own pulse was beating faster. “A body, that while small indeed and slender is the most perfect form I’ve ever seen.” He ran his hands up her back. “Or felt.” 

She shivered as his hands moved to circle her waist. He pulled back to look at her. “You are everything I ever dreamed of Anabel Hawke, and so much more.” 

Unable to think of what to say in response she leaned forward and kissed him again and then leaned her forehead against his. “Thank you.” She said softly.

He smoothed her hair back from her face. “For what?”

“For coming up Sundermount. For helping to kill the varterral. Again. For giving me my first birthday party in years. For the book that meant so much to me.”

He picked up the book and handed it to her. “Read me the story.” He said. “I want to listen to your voice.”

She smiled and took the book, curling up beside him on the sofa. She leaned against him and he put his arm around her as she found the right page. “ _Once upon a time, there was a prince who was everything that a prince should be._ “ She read. “ _Honest and good and truthful,_ ” She looked up at him and smiled. “ _And with eyes bluer than the heavens…_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)
> 
>  
> 
> I've taken the liberty of creating some Antivan, using a mixture of Spanish and Italian:  
>  _muñeca_ = little doll  
>  _cara_ = dear one  
>  _Pugnale a doppia lama_ =double bladed dagger  
>  _doppia lama_ = double blade  
>  _Sposa del Creatore_ =Bride of the Maker
> 
> The story of Anabel's book can be read here: [P is for Prince](http://archiveofourown.org/works/589880)


	8. A Picnic by the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anabel, Isabela and Fenris whisk Sebastian away to the Wounded Coast for a picnic. Complications arise.

Sebastian hurried through the Lowtown market heading towards the Hanged Man, his heart racing with anticipation. As it was summer, the market was still open in spite of the late hour. The merchants were eager to take advantage of the extra hours of daylight summer afforded them and there were a surprising number of people still perusing their wares.

Sebastian barely saw them. After spending several weeks traveling in the more mountainous regions of the Free Marches, the heat in Kirkwall was oppressive but it didn’t slow him down. He’d been gone for more than a month. What was supposed to be a second meeting in Tantervale with Lord Maclaren, and a handful of Starkhaven noblemen who had also been close to his grandfather, had led to several more meetings with still others in nearby towns. The meetings had gone well, better than well, actually, and somehow what was intended to be two weeks away had stretch into three, and then four, and all the while he been aching for Anabel’s company and conversation and for the feel of her hands and skin and lips, unable to write more than the briefest of letters to her, and unable to receive any from her at all due to the uncertainty of his plans. 

Finally he was back home, and even the heat and smells of Lowtown in summer were welcome because they meant that soon he would see Anabel again.

It was Tuesday night, and, as Bodahn had reminded him after welcoming him home enthusiastically, Tuesday was Wicked Grace Night at the Hanged Man. Sebastian’s pace quickened as he ran up the stairs from the market. More than a month: it was the longest he and Anabel had been separated since they’d renewed their acquaintance more than a year before.

He pushed past the patrons loitering by the entrance. Every door and window in the place was propped open, even the door to the kitchen and the alley out back, in an effort to catch some breeze. He looked impatiently around the room. Were they down here or upstairs in Varric’s suite? That was the only thing that changed with these Tuesday night gatherings, and there was no rhyme or reason to the decision. His eye caught a flash of red hair and he moved towards it almost before he had confirmed that yes, it was Anabel. Some dim part of his brain saw they were all there, even Aveline and Donnic who had returned from Orlais while he was gone, but his eyes remained fixed on Anabel, sitting there on the edge of the table, her legs swinging back and forth, laughing at something Varric had said, and as much as he had missed her, as much as he had thought about her, he was unprepared for the surge of pure joy he felt at actually seeing her again.

He stood there, simply watching her for a moment, drinking in the sight of her. She was clad in simple dark leggings and a bright blue silk shirt that was too large for her. It had slipped off one shoulder, and as he watched she pushed it back up. He suspected the shirt was Isabela’s and frowned; if she was borrowing Isabela’s clothes it was because something had happened to her own, and he spared a brief hope that it was because she’d spilled something on it and not because she had gotten herself stabbed again. 

She was talking now, gesturing effusively as she always did when caught up in the story. Whatever she way saying had even Fenris smiling broadly. 

As if the elf knew he was being observed, he turned suddenly towards the doorway. When he saw Sebastian his eyes lit up and he gave Anabel a nudge. At her inquiring glance he pointed toward the door. She looked over and saw Sebastian and let out a small cry, leaping down from the table, knocking over the stool in front of her in her haste to reach him. 

“Sweet Andraste, she’s not going to…” Sebastian heard Aveline say, just as Anabel launched herself at him. He caught her easily, with a hearty laugh. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he tightened his arms around her slender form, astounded at how right it felt.

For a moment they just clung to each other, both laughing out of sheer happiness. He buried his face in her hair, savoring the sweet scent of her. He had missed her. Sweet Andraste, he had missed her. 

She pulled back to look at him, her hands still locked around his neck. “You’re back.” She said breathlessly. “Never, never go away for that long again.”

“Did you miss me then?” He asked with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

She leaned her forehead against his, savoring the feel of him. “More than you know.”

“Let me look at you.” He said. His eyes swept over her face. “Still beautiful, I see.”

She blushed and he laughed again, pulling her close. “It’s getting hard to leave you, little one.” He murmured.

She nestled her head on his shoulder. “So don’t. Let me come with you the next time you go, instead of leaving me here to worry about you.”

“I might just at that,” He said, surprised to find that he was serious. Why not? Almost everyone he had spoken to had asked questions about the Champion of Kirkwall. Why not bring her along?

“Good.” She lifted her head, looking hungrily at him. Maker, he was beautiful. People shouldn’t be allowed to be this beautiful, she thought, her eyes going over his face, the brilliant blue eyes and high cheekbones, that magnificent Vael nose. His mouth… her eyes lingered on those perfectly sculpted lips and she couldn’t resist reaching out and touching them with her fingertips, a feather light touch, but one that made them both shiver. She brought her eyes up to meet his. “I missed you.” She whispered, surprised at the longing that even she could hear in her voice.

Something flared in his eyes and to her surprise he leaned forward and kissed her, right there in the middle of the Hanged Man. He’d intended it to be a quick brush of his lips against hers, but at the first touch, the first taste of her after so long apart, he couldn’t help deepening it, coaxing her lips open, tasting her, feeling that softness and the heat of her. His hand sank into her curls and he felt her legs tighten around his waist as she pressed herself closer, and it was only when someone shouted out “Well done, Champion!” and the tavern broke out in a round of applause, that they pulled apart. Anabel’s cheeks turned pink, but she couldn’t help laughing, even as she hid her face in his neck. Much to everyone’s surprise Sebastian just laughed.

“He’s a prince for Maker’s sake.” Aveline burst out. “Even if Hawke can’t behave herself properly, he should.”

Even Isabela raised an eyebrow when, instead of putting Hawke down, Sebastian walked over to the table still carrying her. She had linked her fingers behind his neck and was eagerly questioning him for details about his trip. Who had he seen? How had it gone? And why on Thedas had he stayed away so long?

“One question at a time, Ana.” He told her as he deposited her back on the table. He straddled the bench directly in front of her and instead of remaining where he had put her, she scrambled down to sit in front of him on the bench, scooting back to lean against his chest. His arms slipped lightly around her, as he greeted the others. He paused at Aveline who was giving him a disapproving look.

“What is it Guard Captain? You look as if you wish to scold me.” His hand stroked Anabel’s hair back as he spoke.

For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to answer, and then she burst out. “You at least should know how to conduct yourself, even if Hawke is a heathen.”

Sebastian eyebrows rose in surprise. “Hawke is a heathen? Her Grace will be shocked.” Hawke tilted her head back to look at him and laughed.

Aveline threw her hands up in surrender. “I blame you for this, Hawke. He was comparatively normal before he began associating with you.”

“I know.” Hawke agreed. “It’s shocking the effect I have on people. Why I know a guard captain, right here in Kirkwall, who lets me get away with all manner of things that aren’t strictly speaking within the law, simply because she finds me so charming.”

Aveline’s scowl deepened. “She doesn’t find you that charming.” She muttered, however she couldn’t help smiling when she saw how happy they were. But that exhibition a few minutes before…she hoped that whatever Sebastian intended, he acted soon. If he didn’t do something by the end of the summer she was going to haul him off for another talk in her office.

Barely a quarter of an hour later Anabel tilted her head back to look at Sebastian. He smiled down at her and she stretched up so her mouth was by his ear. “Take me home.” She told him. She wanted to be alone with him, to be able to touch him and kiss him and nuzzle into him without Aveline’s disapproving glances or Anders’ sulking glares, or Isabela’s leers.

He looked into those amazing eyes and nodded. “Yes.” He was tired of pretending any interest in the card game. Tired of Anders alternating between longing glances at Anabel, and looks of pure loathing directed at him, tired of having to ignore Isabela’s lascivious comments, and Aveline’s concerned frowns. 

Anabel gave him a smile that took his breath away and clambered to her feet. “We’re out.” She announced abruptly, and ignoring the comments and looks and protests, she and Sebastian left the tavern. The sky was still a dark blue and the market was just closing up.

Sebastian took her hand and kissed it before tucking it into the crook of his elbow. “Tell me what I’ve missed while I’ve been gone.” He said as they headed towards the staircase to Hightown.

She put her other hand on top of his arm as if she couldn’t bear to let him any farther away now that he had returned. “Aveline and Donnic are back, obviously. They arrived home with ridiculously satisfied grins on their faces, and Aveline looked almost relaxed for a day or two until she went back to work. I went out to the mine a couple of times. Hubert’s been dicking around with the men again, buying them the shoddiest equipment imaginable. It basically fell apart when they tried to use it.”

“You took care of that, I’m assuming.”

“Oh yes.” Her expression grew serious. “Meredith’s been cracking down on the mages. More raids in Lowtown and the Undercity. Anders says the Mage Underground is almost crushed.” 

Sebastian wasn’t certain how to respond to that bit of news. He’d never wanted Anabel involved in the Mage Underground, and he was certain that Anders would be all too willing to have the Champion of Kirkwall a part of it. To say he was glad the Underground was gone, would certainly be taken the wrong way, and it wasn’t correct. He didn’t wish the Underground ill, but Anabel’s safety was more important to him. Luckily Anabel continued on without waiting for him to comment.

“I went over to the Gallows and talked with Enchanter Rhosyn about Da. She told me all sorts of stories. I don’t think half of them are true, but apparently he’s become something of a legend there. I found out that it was his running off with Leandra that led to the templars first starting to restrict the mages to the Gallows. Da would have hated to hear that. I was surprised. I thought that sort of thing didn’t start until Meredith had taken over.”

“She would have been Knight Lieutenant at the time.” Sebastian reminded her. “It may well have been she who initiated the action.”

“I wonder if she knew Da. She must have, or at least known of him.” 

He had wondered the same thing. “It does seem likely. You didn’t see Meredith when you were there?”

She shook her head. “No. She seems to be avoiding any direct encounter, which is just fine with me. She did send a message informing me that there would be an unveiling of a statue at the Docks on the anniversary of the defeat of the Qunari and that as Champion I would be expected to be there. You came to the city after the old Viscount was overthrown.” She said abruptly. She made it a statement rather than a question.

“Yes, just after Viscount Dumar’s coronation. But honestly, I was too busy wallowing in my own misery at the time to pay much attention to politics. I do remember how upset Elthina was when Perrin Threnhold was poisoned. She had sentenced him to prison in order to spare his life.” 

Anabel briefly wondered if that were the reason that Elthina was so reluctant to interfere in politics these days. She had read that the previous Knight Commander, Guylian had much the same attitude, insisting that the Templars’ job was not politics but to safeguard the city against magic. But Threnhold hadn’t believed him, and Guylian had been accused of treason and hanged right there in the Gallows. Apparently Meredith had taken that lesson to heart. Oh, she claimed that as soon as a suitable candidate was put forward she would hold an election and a new Viscount would be named. Anabel thought it highly unlikely to happen any time soon. And she certainly had no desire for the job. So far she had been able to ignore the subtle hints that she should seek the position. Even Sebastian seemed to think it was a good idea. She quickly changed the subject before he brought it up. “I talked to Cullen about Davin while I was there – you remember Davin, the orphan I met in the Chantry. I told him if they were actually going to recruit him that I’d take care of the cost of his equipment and such so he didn’t end up with the crap leftovers.”

He couldn’t help smiling. “Is that how you put it?”

She just grinned. “Of course.”

“What did Cullen say?”

“I think he approves. He seems to like Davin which can only be a good thing. He did suggest that while it would be nice if Davin didn’t have the ‘crap’ armor, it probably shouldn’t be top of the line stuff either.”

“So as not to cause resentment among the other recruits.”

“Exactly. I like Cullen.”

“As do I.” Said Sebastian, remembering the man’s kindness when Anabel had been so ill. He wondered if Cullen had told her about her cousin. She hadn’t mentioned it, so probably not. Though Cullen’s tale hadn’t been a confession, it had seemed a confidence shared in a private moment, and so Sebastian had kept silent about it. “He’s a good man. A good templar.”

“Yes. That can’t be easy, the way the Gallows are these days.” They started up the stairs to Hightown. “Varric’s the same as always. I found his family ring at a stall in the Lowtown market. Bartrand must have hocked it.”

“And you returned it to Varric.”

“Of course. He was quite touched actually. Almost at a loss for words, at least what passes for that with Varric. Merrill’s barely been out of her house. Her showing up tonight was a pleasant surprise. She’s been spending every moment with that damned mirror. I’m considering sneaking into her house when she’s out and smashing it to bits.” She said with a scowl. 

Having finally seen the mirror for himself he wasn’t inclined to disagree with that course of action. To say the mirror was unsettling was an understatement. “And Fenris and Isabela?

She gave him a sly smile. “Indeed.”

“And what does that look mean?” He asked.

“Fenris and Isabela. Fenris AND Isabela.” She repeated with careful emphasis.

He stopped in his tracks. “Truly?” 

“Yes. I was just as surprised. And then I worried that Fenris might be hurt, but it’s Izzy. She would never hurt him, not that way, and they’re strangely suited to each other. They genuine like and respect each other. They’re friends.”

He thought about it as they reached the top of the stairs and began walking through the now closed Hightown Market. Isabela, for all her supposed sexual depravity would never use anyone, not sexually. She would always respect the other person’s wishes, and never force anyone to do anything they didn’t wish to. There would be no embarrassment or awkwardness that she wouldn’t be able to simply brush aside with a laugh and an offer to try again later or just to have a drink and go to sleep.

The complete opposite of Fenris’ previous sexual experiences. 

He had to admit, Anabel was right. They were a good match, and one he hadn’t considered. 

Anabel had been watching him carefully and when he didn’t comment right away asked. “Do you not approve?” 

He gave her an easy smile. “On the contrary. I think they’ll suit each other quite well.” 

 

They retreated to the library as soon as they got to Anabel’s. Orana brought them some wine, a happy smile on her face, and a shy greeting welcoming Sebastian home. She closed the door behind her when she left.

Sebastian immediately turned to Anabel, taking her wine glass from her and placing it back on the tray and without word he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, kissed her the way he’d wanted to earlier, tasting and nibbling and letting his mouth trail down to her throat. It left her breathless and actually trembling, and left him wanting even more. He had to force himself to stop, to hold back. 

She tried to speak but had to pause to run her tongue over her lips before she could. “So you did miss me then?” She said trying to sound as blasé as possible, an attempt that was ruined by the undeniable shakiness of her voice. 

He leaned down and kissed her again, harder this time. “Yes. More than I thought possible.”

This trip had confirmed what he’d begun to realize months ago: he couldn’t wait any longer to be with her, in spite of the uncertainty of reclaiming Starkhaven, in spite of the fact he had nothing to offer her but himself, and his love for her, in spite of his worries that he would become the man he was before he’d joined the Chantry. He was willing to take the risk if it meant being with her.

He would do it properly though and by the end of the month, no later. He would speak to Elthina and seek her blessing, and to Gamlen, Anabel’s oldest male relative, though Anabel would probably laugh at his old fashioned ways. His proposal would be as ridiculously romantic as any she read about in those novels she borrowed from Isabela. And he would spend the rest of his life proving himself worthy of her.

 

 

He fell easily back into his routine: mornings at the Chantry working with Elthina, attending and sometimes assisting with the noon service, and then afternoons and evenings spent with Anabel, sometimes on ‘jobs’ as she still called them, though she rarely accepted any kind of pay, but more often than not simply spending time with her, in her house, or at shops in Hightown, occasionally visiting with Elthina or Brother Plinth, or her ‘gang’ as she still referred to them.

Three weeks has passed since his return. The heat in Kirkwall was stifling now. It was still early in the day, but already the temperatures had risen to uncomfortable levels, even inside the thick stone walls of the Chantry. 

Sebastian was in the chancel, discussing the next week’s services with Elthina. Sister Beata, newly confirmed and eager to prove her devotion and worth, was next to them, busily taking notes. As Sebastian spoke, a flash of color caught eye and he looked down the nave to see Anabel striding towards them, her pace quick and certain, wearing a loose linen shirt in a bluish purple with cotton leggings. Her bright hair was in a loose knot at the nape of her neck. She carried all the light and color of the summer day outside along with her, he thought with a smile. She spotted them in the nave and giving them a brilliant smile, moved quickly towards the stairs.

Sebastian glanced at the Grand Cleric, and found her smiling as well. 

“It makes me feel younger just to watch her.” She murmured. “Maker would that everyone embraced life the way Hawke does.” At Sebastian’s surprised look she added. “Oh, Sebastian. She’s very easy to love. I only wish Leandra had realized it sooner.” 

Before he could comment, Hawke had run up to them.

“Sebastian, Your Grace.” She looked at the young sister whom she hadn’t met and gave her a friendly smile before turning back to Elthina. “I’m afraid I need to borrow Sebastian, if you can spare him. Something’s come up. A matter of some urgency on the Wounded Coast. A life and death situation, I’m afraid.” She turned to face him. “I have Fenris and Isabela waiting outside, but it’s important we leave as soon as we possibly can.” 

“Of course.” He said, wondering what it could be. His mind immediately went to slavers or Tal Vashoth. There had been some trouble with smugglers that she’d handled last week and he wondered if it were related to that. “By your leave, Grand Cleric?” 

“Certainly, Sebastian.” Elthina didn’t hesitate. “Andraste bless your endeavors, Champion.”

A strange expression crossed Anabel’s face, and for a moment he thought she almost looked guilty, but it was gone so fast that he dismissed the idea.

“We’ll probably be gone at least overnight.” Anabel said looking towards the Chantry door as she spoke, as if something of great interest had caught her eye there. “It’s too hot to wear armor. Just toss it in with the rest of your gear.” 

He nodded. “Let me change and gather my things and I’ll meet you outside. Is it only Isabela and Fenris coming along?”

She nodded. “The four of us will be able to handle what I’ve got planned.” She seemed to be trying not to smile. “Go on.” She said. “We’ll meet you by the stables.”

Sebastian left to gather his things and Hawke turned to the Grand Cleric. “I’ll have him back tomorrow, and thank you for loaning him out.” She kissed the older woman’s cheek, and Sister Beata couldn’t help the gasp of surprise at her familiarity. 

“What?” asked Hawke, with a twinkle in her eyes. “We all of us need affection, Sister. Even Grand Clerics.” She winked at Elthina and ran swiftly down the stairs. 

Much to Sebastian’s surprise when he reached the stables Fenris and Isabela were waiting on the seat of a small horse-drawn cart. Hawke was standing in the back. They’d taken horses to the Wounded Coast before, but never a cart.

“Come on your Highness!” Yelled Isabela when she spied him. “Time’s a-wasting!” 

He walked around to the rear of the cart puzzled by the baskets and bed rolls it held. He tossed his own gear up and climbed in. Anabel sat down opposite him. “Onwards, Fenris!” She commanded. The cart took off with a jolt that made Isabela squeal and clutch at Fenris’ arm. 

Sebastian wondered at their jubilant mood as they headed out of the city. “You’re all very merry. Just what is it that we’re doing today?”

Anabel waited until they were through the gate before she turned to him with a happy smile. “We’re having a picnic.” She announced.

He stared at her for a moment. “A picnic.” He repeated. “Anabel, you told Elthina straight to her face that it was a matter of urgency. Life and death, were the exact words you used, I believe.”

“Oh, it is.” She insisted. “If I have to spend another day in Kirkwall in this heat I’m going to kill someone.” 

 

 

Sebastian looked around the secluded cove. You couldn’t even see it from the cliff above, and yet if one knew where to look, there was a trail that led down to the water, easily wide enough for the cart they’d brought. The waves rolled lazily up onto the sand, and there were a few trees offering shade closer to the cliff. There was even a small picturesque waterfall coming down from an opening in the cliff face that he was sure was fresh water. Best of all there was a refreshing breeze blowing. After the stifling heat of Kirkwall it felt better than he could have imagined. 

He turned back to Anabel. “How did you find this spot?” 

“It was a smuggler’s cove.” She told him. “I have it on good authority that as of last week, said smugglers are no longer in business.” She gave him a saucy grin. “So. Still want to go back to Kirkwall?” 

He’d spent the first quarter of an hour of the trip insisting that they turn around and go back to Kirkwall, that he wasn’t going to deceive the Grand Cleric like that. His protests had been completely ignored.

He couldn’t help smiling. “No. You knew that didn’t you? That I’d be unable to resist it once I saw it.”

“Mmmm.” She agreed.

“You’re a horrible influence.” He informed her.

“I am.” She agreed, not in the least perturbed. “What will you do with me?” 

“I’ll have to give it careful consideration.” His eyes lingered on her mouth, and he laughed when she blushed. 

“Oh, the ocean, my one true love, how I’ve missed you.” Isabela cried out behind him.

He turned to make some comment and his mouth fell open in surprise.

The pirate had pulled off her boots, and untied the scarf around her waist and was in the midst of pulling her tunic up over her head, revealing both her impressively large breasts, and the fact she hadn’t been wearing any smalls.

Sebastian whirled around at the unexpected sight. “Isabela! You can’t just run around like that.” 

“Watch me Choir Boy!” She whooped and ran towards the water, diving into the surf. 

Sebastian looked at Anabel.

She just smiled and shrugged. “Personally I’m surprised we can ever keep clothes on her.”

He turned to Fenris, and was just in time to see him slip out of his own leggings and join Isabela in the water. 

Was everyone going to going to be swimming unclothed? Was Anabel? He turned to look at her and was relieved to find she was still dressed. 

She couldn’t help laughing at his expression. “Don’t worry.” She told him. “I’m very selective about who sees me naked, and I sunburn. My shirt isn’t going anywhere.”

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Good.”

“Of course I will be following Isabela’s example in one respect. I have absolutely no intention of wearing trousers.”

Without another word, she kicked off her boots and unlaced her trousers, pushing them down over her hips. He caught just a glimpse of lace trimmed smalls in a pale pink that almost blended in with her skin, before the hem of her shirt covered them again, and he offered a brief prayer of thanks that she hadn’t followed Isabela’s example in that regards at least. The prayer faltered as she bent over to step out of the trousers, and the front of her shirt gaped open and he realized she wasn’t wearing anything beneath it. 

He was alone on the Wounded Coast with a half-dressed Anabel Hawke. No, he corrected, not alone. Fenris and Isabela were here. 

As if on cue, Isabela squealed and he turned to see Fenris had grabbed her and the two were locked in a passionate embrace at the far end of the cove. He quickly spun around again. Anabel was watching him with a small frown on her face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would cause trouble.” She didn’t quite understand why he looked so worried. Was it a Chantry thing? Was there some rule about clothing or the lack of it that still bound him, even as a lay brother? She gave him an apologetic smile. “I forget you’re so much better behaved than the rest of us. We tend to throw our clothes off on a moment’s notice and go diving in whenever we sneak out here for a swim.”

“This is a regular occurrence?” He asked trying to come to terms with the situation he had so unexpectedly found himself in. 

“Sure. We’ve been doing this since we first came to Kirkwall. I wish we’d found this cove earlier. It’s just perfect.” She cast a longing glance at the water.

He heard Isabela give another squeal and closed his eyes briefly. “And all of you swim… unclothed?” He said carefully.

She frowned. She hadn’t thought Sebastian would be so prudish about this. “Some of us do. Some of us keep our smalls on. As I said, I burn so I keep a shirt on, even though Anders has offered to heal any sunburn I might get. I don’t always bother with the shirt at night.” She said with a small shrug.

Of course Anders would offer to heal her sunburn. Any chance to put his hands on her. Any chance to see her unclothed. Had Anders been one of those swimming naked? Sebastian’s mind was suddenly filled with unwelcome pictures of the two of them, Anders and Anabel, together in the dark water, locked in an embrace, unclothed or partially clothed. Both options were equally unappealing. 

He told himself it was ridiculous to be jealous. Anders had seen her unclothed any number of times over the last four years. In all likelihood Anders had seen her far more unclothed than he had himself.

That thought didn’t help at all. 

It wasn’t Anabel’s fault. She probably saw no difference between his seeing her undressed when he healed her and his seeing her swimming naked.

She was foolishly naïve about such things.

Anabel saw the expression on his face, and completely misinterpreted the cause. Maker, she thought. Was nudity, or even semi-nudity really that big a deal to the Chantry?

She put her hand on his arm. “It’s all right, Sebastian. It’s hot, the water is cool. Even the Chantry couldn’t object to that.” She said with a reassuring smile. “Just come and have a swim.” 

She thought he was objecting because of some prudish …. He opened his mouth to correct that impression, but she was backing away from him, moving towards the water. 

“Just leave your smalls on. I promise you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before. I do have a little brother you know.” She grinned, and then turned and ran into the water, diving under the surface.

He stared after her. She’d gone to the other side of the cove, he noticed, away from Fenris and Isabela, probably to spare his delicate sensibilities. How had he reached this point, where a half-naked beauty had to convince him to disrobe and join her in the waters of a secluded cove?

His younger self would be completely appalled.

With a muttered curse, he yanked his shirt off over his head, and pulled off his boots, stripping down to his smalls, and ignoring the catcall Isabela sent his way. He ran into the water and dove when it was deep enough.

It felt magnificent. He swam out further and then paused, treading water, trying to recall when he had last gone swimming. Not since before he left Starkhaven. Could that be right? Too long, in any case.

He looked around for Anabel and couldn’t see her. She could swim, he knew that, but was there an undercurrent or riptide that she was unaware of? 

Just when he was starting to worry, a small hand went around his ankle and pulled him beneath the water. He resurfaced, coughing and spluttering. Anabel popped up next to him, laughing. “I couldn’t resist. Are you all right?” Her eyes looked bluer than usual against all that water. 

He pushed his wet hair out of his face. “Yes. I hadn’t realized these waters were infested with predators, is all.” 

She gave him an entirely unrepentant smile. “Oh, yes. They’re quite merciless, I hear.” She shifted so she was floating on her back. “Now, isn’t this nicer than being stuck in Kirkwall?” 

“It’s not even debatable. I feel quite decadent abandoning my duties like this. And more than a bit guilty.” He admitted. 

“You can always go back.” She suggested innocently. “Kirkwall is…” She shifted so she was treading water again and looked around suddenly disoriented by the uneven coastline. She pointed uncertainly towards the coastline. “That way, I think.” 

“Yes. That would be Ostwick.” He told her.

“Oh.” She frowned and pointed in another direction. “That way?” She asked hopefully.

“Tantervale.” He laughed at her expression. She really was hopeless at geography.

Her frown deepened. “So which way is Kirkwall?”

He indicated with his hand. “That way. Remind me to buy you an atlas for your next birthday.” He was rewarded with a splash of sea water in his face. 

“Right.” He said. “You’ll pay for that.” 

She just laughed and dove beneath the surface again.

They stayed in the water for almost an hour, swimming and floating lazily and from time to time chasing each other, just to have the excuse to catch or be caught. They discovered he could swim faster, but she could hold her breath longer and once Sebastian realized that, he simply had to wait for her to come up for air to catch her. The next time she surfaced he grabbed her from behind making her squeal as he pulled her back against him. The water was shallow enough that his feet could touch bottom, though hers couldn’t. 

She turned in his arms so she was facing him, and wiped the water from her eyes before bringing her hands to rest on his shoulders. She trailed her fingers the muscles there. Archers: they had the nicest shoulders. “You caught me.” She admitted breathlessly.

“I did indeed.” He said with a smile. His hands slid around her waist meeting bare skin – soft and warm and smooth in the water, and he felt her hands tighten on his shoulders.

She gave a small tilt of her head. “So what forfeit do you claim?” She asked tucking her hair behind her ear. She had lost her hairpins somewhere along the way and her hair was loose, darker in the water and floating around her. 

He raised an eyebrow. “I hadn’t realized claiming a forfeit was an option.”

She laughed. “I learned to swim with Carver. With my brother anything was a competition involving forfeits. I’d usually end up doing his chores that day.”

“I’m quite capable of doing my own chores.” He pointed out.

Her arms slid around his neck. “Perhaps you could think of something else.” She suggested.

He pretended to give the matter some thought. “I wouldn’t turn down a kiss.” 

“A kiss? That’s hardly a punishment at all.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips lightly against his and tried to slip away, laughing when he immediately pulled her back.

“And that’s hardly what I would call a kiss.” He countered, pulling her back.

“No?” She asked feigning surprise, but giving him a glimpse of her dimple that let him know she realized the game they were playing. “I’m afraid I’ve no experience of kisses as forfeits. Carver would have considered them punishment, rather than a reward. Perhaps you could demonstrate?” 

Instead of answering he just kissed her, catching her upper lip between his own, tasting, nibbling, savoring her just a series of teasing light kisses. It was she who deepened it, pulling him closer, tightening her grip around his neck. He only pulled back when in spite of the cold water he felt his body begin to react to the taste and feel of her.

“Oh, I like that forfeit.” She said breathlessly. “I might even consider letting myself get caught for that.” 

“A good bit of information to have.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “You taste salty.” He commented.

“Well, yes. Ocean, you know.” She murmured. She slid her arms around his neck and nibbled on his lower lip. She loved the feeling of his skin under her mouth, loved the taste of him. Was that perverted? She deepened the kiss, let her tongue slide into his mouth, exploring and tasting and it was so pleasurable she decided she didn’t care if it was perverted. His hands ran up the bare skin of her back and she couldn’t help a soft moan.

He was smiling when the kiss ended. “And was that a forfeit as well?” He asked.

“Mmhmm. I’m stockpiling.” She informed him. “Keeping a reserve. Just in case.”

“A wise plan.” He agreed, drinking in the sight of her. He frowned. “Your nose is sunburned."

She seemed unconcerned. “It always happens out here. It’s this ridiculous fair skin.”

“Beautiful skin. Perfect. Unearthly, almost.”

“Certainly unable to handle a bit of sunshine.” She said wryly. “I’ll have some freckles as well before the day is out, so I hope you’re not too attached to the idea of perfection.”

“You had freckles the first time I met you. I thought you were adorable.”

She stared at him in surprise. “You thought I was adorable the first time you met me?” 

He kissed the tip of her nose, quite definitely pink now. “Yes. Come. Let’s get you into the shade.” 

When they got to the shore, she paused in the shallows to wring the water out of her hair. Sebastian turned back to thank her for dragging him out of the city in spite of his protests, and his mind went completely blank. He could only gape at her.

“What is it?” Anabel asked with a puzzled look. 

Sebastian couldn’t tear his gaze away. Her wet linen shirt was clinging to her body, to every dip, to every curve, to every hollow, in a way that somehow made her seem more naked than if she had actually been unclothed. 

She hadn’t been wearing a breastband today, was his first coherent thought. The wet fabric was clinging to the most perfect pair breasts he could have imagined, just the size to fill his hands, he’d swear to it, and tipped by small pertly erect nipples and all he could think of was leaning down and taking the nipple into his mouth and the sound she would make when he tugged it gently between his teeth.

Hawke followed his gaze and blushed bright pink. She crossed her arms over her breasts. “Shit. Sebastian, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean...I thought because it was a dark color it wouldn’t show….” She stopped, realizing she was babbling and took a deep breath. Keeping one arm across her breasts she walked over, and turned him around so he was facing the horizon. “Look over there; I think you can see Antiva.” She said, pointing in the general direction of Fereldan.

He heard her splashing through the shallows and onto the sand behind him. He closed his eyes. The image of her standing there, the waves lapping at her thighs, the thin cloth clinging to every inch of her torso seemed burned into his brain. He forced himself to think of something else, anything else. 

By the time she returned he had regained some control. 

She gave him an apologetic smile as she handed him a towel. “I’m sorry.” She said again. She’d changed into a different shirt, made of a simple cotton gauze, more of a tunic than a shirt, reaching to mid-thigh, in a pale pink color that almost blended into her fair skin. It had wide, loose sleeves and the neck formed a deep v, fastened by a series of ties: she’d tied every one. She hadn’t bothered to put on trousers, but the shirt was loose fitting and he could pretend that he didn’t now know exactly what the curves beneath it looked like. “I wasn’t thinking. It wasn’t truly wasn’t intentional.”

“I know, Anabel. It’s fine. Quite perfect, actually.” He said with a teasing smile that made her blush again. He leaned down and kissed her, a brief, firm kiss. “Now, someone said something about a picnic.” 

 

 

They spent the afternoon lazing about in the shade, enjoying the food Orana had packed for them. They talked quietly for a time and then Sebastian actually dozed off, the first time he’d slept during the day for a dozen years at least. It had felt positively decadent, but wonderful. Better still though, was waking up to Anabel beside him. She was lying on her stomach, her face turned towards him and he lay there, completely content, just watching her. As she’d predicted, there was a sprinkling of freckles on her nose and cheeks, reminding him of the first time he’d seen her. He reached out and brushed a curl away from her face, feeling the petal like softness of her skin, and couldn’t help marveling that all the uncertainty and unhappiness of his life before the Chantry had somehow brought him here, beside her, preparing to spend the rest of his life with her. He looked up and found Isabela watching him from the blanket she’d been sharing with Fenris. 

“You have got it bad, haven’t you?” She teased, though her eyes were kind.

He glanced back at Anabel again and smiled. “Yes. I do indeed.”

 

Evening found them all sitting around a small campfire; once the sun had gone down the breeze coming off the ocean made it cool enough to warrant one. 

“What is it about Kirkwall that seems to keep out any breeze that might offer relief during the summer? The air just seems to stagnate. We aren’t that far away now. Why would there be a breeze here but not there?” Anabel asked, not really expecting an answer. 

“I suspect it has something to do with the design of the streets. Too many corners and alleys to trap any wind.” Said Fenris, taking a drink from the wine bottle he held. He’d pulled on his leggings again but left his shirt off. 

They’d been drinking wine and talking for hours now. They weren’t drunk exactly, but none of them could claim with any truth to be quite sober either.

Isabela was lounging between Fenris’ legs and reached up to take the bottle from his hand. She winced as the movement caused the fabric of her tunic to rub against her skin. “Shit!” she said squirming uncomfortably. “I think my tits are sunburned.”

Fenris snorted. “As might be expected when you insisted on running around naked on the beach for most of the day.” 

He seemed to be the only one of them who hadn’t gotten sunburned. Anabel’s nose and cheeks were bright pink now, though she claimed it wasn’t bothering her. Sebastian’s sunburn was less obvious, just a deepening of his usual tan, but he could feel the heat of it on his face. 

Isabela was giving Fenris a scornful look. “I noticed you didn’t mind my being naked earlier when we were frolicking in the surf.”

“I don’t frolic.” He said, taking back the wine and passing it to Hawke.

“Fucking then.” 

Fenris scowled at her and Anabel let out an, “Isabela!”

The pirate seemed genuinely confused. “What? Pass me the grapes would you, Sebastian?” 

Sebastian broke off some grapes off the bunch and handed them to her. “I notice you talk about…vulgar things a lot.” He commented.

Isabela leered at him and reaching out with her foot, ran it up his leg. “Do you want me to stop?” She asked. “Am I making you... uncomfortable?"

Sebastian smiled serenely. “It was just an observation, really.” He moved back enough that he was out of reach of her foot and popped a grape into his mouth. 

She smiled, not at all repentant. “It's a bad habit I picked up, spending years with foul-mouthed pirates. Pirates only care about a small number of very specific things: the sea, strong drink, and booty. Both kinds.” 

She winked at him, and Sebastian couldn’t help but smile. There was something so very likable about Isabela. And something familiar…

He stared at her so intently that she began to look uncomfortable. “What?” She asked accusingly.

“I used to be like you, you know.” He couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized it before now.

She feigned surprise. “You used to be a woman? That explains so much!”

“No!” He lobbed a grape at her which she easily dodged, as Hawke and Fenris laughed. “Before I came to Kirkwall I used to be out to all hours, drinking and whoring. I didn't believe in anything except my own pleasure.”

“That does sound vaguely familiar.” She said, before giving a plaintive sigh. “Oh, why couldn't I have met you then? If you’d like to share all the sordid details, I’d be a more than willing audience.”

“I’ll spare us that.” He said with a wry smile. “My family put me in the Chantry because I was giving them a bad name, but it turned out to the best thing that ever happened to me. I found peace.”

Isabela shuddered at the thought.

“I found a purpose.” He added.

“I have a purpose. I want to get the wine back from Hawke.” Isabela said leaning forwards and taking it, and even Sebastian couldn’t help laughing. She took a swig, before settling back to lounge against Fenris again and gave Sebastian an appraising look. “You know, it's been years, and not once have you tried to get me to repent or turn to the Maker. I’m beginning to think you don’t care.” 

He turned those serene blue eyes to her with a smile. “Preaching seldom works, Isabela. To change a person's heart, one has to lead by example.” 

Sitting there just in his trousers with his shirt open (and who would have suspected all that chest hair?) and his hair tousled by wind and salt water he seemed quite different from chantry priest she knew. It gave her an inkling of what Hawke saw in him. She blinked in surprise at both the realization and his answer. “That makes sense I suppose. I can respect that.”

“Eventually I grew weary of the strings of nameless lovers and the nights full of mindless pleasure.” He warned. “You will, too.” 

Now that was more like the Chantry priest. She gasped in mock horror. “That's the cruelest thing anyone's ever said to me! I think I'm going to cry.” But she just grinned and took another drink of wine before pushing herself to her feet. “Come on Fenris. A moonlight swim.” She gave him a friendly leer. “I’ll let you frolic me again.” The two of them disappeared toward the far end of the cove. 

Sebastian glanced over at Anabel. She was sitting cross legged, poking the fire with a stick, her hair unbound and falling down her back in a tangle of unruly curls. A small smile curved her lips. 

“What are you smiling about, my Ana?” He asked her.

She turned her head to look at him, her dimple dancing at the corner of her mouth. “I’m just happy.” She said simply. “We’ve had a good day, a good meal, a beautiful night. Some very nice wine. There’s actually a cool-ish breeze, and I’m with people I love. What more could I need?” 

It had been a good day. “Indeed.” He agreed. “Sometimes it’s the simplest things that bring the most joy.” 

There was a throaty laugh and an answering growl from the direction of the water. They exchanged a knowing smile. 

“The simple things, indeed.” Anabel said, laughing. The world seemed to spin a little. “I think I’m a little drunk.” She confessed.

Sebastian just smiled. “I think we’ve all indulged tonight. But as you said, it is very nice wine.” 

She looked at him curiously. “Are you drunk? “ She’d never seen him drunk. He seemed as much in control as ever. She wouldn’t have even suspected if he hadn’t said anything.

“Perhaps a bit.” He admitted. It had snuck up on him. He hadn’t been drunk since that first year in the Chantry when he’d managed to sneak out a few times.

”Did you mean it when you said you used to be like Isabela?” She asked.

He leaned back on his hands and looked up at the stars. He’d definitely had too much wine. “Worse, actually. As much as our pirate queen may lack honesty in other areas, I’ve never known her to be dishonest in … well, affairs of the heart, shall we say. I can’t make the same claim.” He lowered his head and stared at the fire. “There were so many I used and discarded when I was done, with never a thought of anything but my own pleasure. Women, men, humans, elves…” He admitted. “Never a dwarf in drag, as Isabela claims,” he added with a small smile, “But that was probably only due to a lack of opportunity. I was a wild boy. I feel such shame when I think of it.” 

“You must have cared for some of them.” It seemed so unlike the man she knew.

“That’s the truly shameful part. I don’t think I did. Oh I didn’t actively dislike them. I don’t think I gave them enough thought for that. Perhaps if I had cared for them, any of them, perhaps if I’d been in love it would have made a different man of me. It took the Chantry to do that. It took giving all that up.” For the first time in months, he felt a pang of worry that without the Chantry he might become that man again. He felt Anabel move closer to him and her small hand slipped into his. 

“But you’re quite different from that man now.” She pointed out. 

He turned to look at her. Her eyes were clear and calm as she looked up at him and the belief in them, the faith she had in him took his breath away. He wondered what he had done to deserve such a gift.

“I hope I am.” He looked back at the fire. He wondered what had happened to all those people he’d used and forgotten. His thoughts were interrupted when Anabel spoke.

_But the one who repents, who has faith_  
 _Unshaken by the darkness of the world,_  
 _And boasts not, nor gloats_  
 _Over the misfortunes of the weak, but takes delight_  
 _In the Maker's law and creations, she shall know_  
 _The peace of the Maker's benediction.”_

She finished the verse and looked over at him.

He just stared at her.

“Or he in this case.” When he still didn’t say anything she explained. “It’s from Transfigurations.”

“I know.” He said stupidly.

She couldn’t help smiling at his stunned expression. “You needn’t look so surprised. I do sometimes pay attention during services, you know. I like that verse. It always reminds me of you.”

Anabel Hawke, who proudly proclaimed herself to be halfway to a heathen, quoting the Chant to him. She still surprised him, after all this time. But as she’d intended, he found comfort in the verse. His hand tightened around hers and he lifted it to his lips. ‘You put my heart at ease, Anabel.” He lowered her hand again, but didn’t release it. “It’s strange you should say that verse reminds you of me. It always makes me think of you. _Unshaken by the darkness of the world_. You, fighting against the darkness. Unhesitating. Braver than any man I know.”

She flushed at the compliment. “You’re ruining any chance of that humble and meek thing the Chant goes on about, you know.” 

“I think the odds of your embracing meekness were fairly poor to begin with.” He ran his fingers over her hand.

She just laughed. “True enough. You and Elthina have your work cut out for you. A lifetime of work.”

“I’d be lucky to spend a lifetime with you.” The words left his mouth before he had time to consider them.

She smiled at him but there was a wistfulness to it he didn’t quite understand. “I’d be the lucky one.” 

He reached over and pulled her between his legs, needing her closer suddenly. He wrapped his arms around her and took her hand again, turning it palm up. “Your hands are so small.” His fingers caressed the skin, feeling the callouses on her palms, a reminder of her skill. “All that you do. All that you accomplish. I sometimes forget what a tiny thing you are.” 

Her hand seemed almost dwarfed by his and she sighed. “I look like a child. “ She complained. 

He looked down at her flushed cheeks, and full lips, at the high cheekbones, the one long red curl that trailed down her neck to that dark shadow between her breasts. The top three ties to her shirt had come unfastened at some point, and what had been a modest neckline was suddenly a deep V, offering tantalizing glimpses of the gentle curves that he remembered all too well from earlier. He snorted in a very un-Sebastian way. “Hardly a child, Ana.” 

She smiled up at him and he pressed a kiss to her forehead and she turned suddenly, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face against his chest. “I’m so glad we’re here. I’m glad that we’ve had this day. Even if…” Her voice trailed off. 

She still didn’t know what he intended for them. It was obvious he was leaning towards taking back the throne, but still nothing had been said of their future together and she suspected she knew what that meant. _He’ll never marry you_. 

When he’d been so devoted to her during and after her recovery, when the kisses they’d shared had become more passionate, and touches and caresses had been added she’d let herself hope. Even when he’d returned from this latest trip she’d thought he might say something.

But he hadn’t. 

It was plain that he wanted her, that he desired her. She knew that – she wasn’t nearly as naïve and clueless as everyone thought about such things. The only reason she could think of that he hadn’t given into those desires was that he was too honorable; he didn’t want to take advantage of her and then leave her behind when he went to Starkhaven. 

So she’d made the decision: if she couldn’t have a future with him than she at least wanted him right now. When Isabela had suggested the trip out here today she had leapt at the chance.

So here she was. She just didn’t have a clue as to how to proceed.

“Even if?” He asked when she didn’t finish the sentence.

She opened her mouth to tell him, or ask him, or something, but she couldn’t think of how to say it. “Nothing.” She said, shaking her head and trying to ignore the sudden lump in her throat. Maker, she was a coward.

He turned her so he could see her face and he frowned when he did. “Ana?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me, love.” She was obviously upset about something and the change in mood was so sudden he couldn’t help but be concerned.

It was the endearment that did it. A sudden determination filled her. If he was going to leave her, to move on to Starkhaven and marry some perfect princess in training that everyone would approve of, who could offer status and a dowry and troops and such, she at least wanted something, even if it was only for a few months.

The trouble was, short of flinging herself at him and crying out 'Take me, I’m yours!', she didn’t know how to make the request. When she finally did speak, her words were a barely coherent jumble of her thoughts. “You’re so good and honorable. I’m not like that. I think things about you that I shouldn’t, all the time. I want things from you that I know you aren’t willing to give me, even though I sometimes think you want it as badly as I do. And I know we can’t… I don’t expect….I want to...I want…” Her courage deserted her and she moved away from him, on the pretense of getting the wine bottle. She picked it up and took a large swallow, unable to even look at him. Maker, she was pathetic. She really was going to die a virgin. Maybe tearing off her clothes and throwing herself at him was truly her only option.

Just the thought of it made her blush.

Sebastian sat there trying to make sense of the outburst. When he saw the blush he realized what it was she was trying to tell him. What it was she was asking him for.

He swallowed hard, wishing they were back in Kirkwall where curious neighbors would be all to ready to report his leaving too late or too early, and Bodahn and Sandal and Orana kept a watchful eye on them. Could he resist her if she pursued this here?

She was staring into the fire, completely frustrated with herself. _Stop being such a coward_. She took another swallow of wine to fortify herself and tilted the bottle back too far. The wine rushed out and poured down her chin and down the front of her shirt. She put the bottle down, coughing, and wiping at her chin. “Shit.” She muttered, blotting at her chest with her shirt. Some seductress she was.

Sebastian moved beside her. “It’s all right. Ana.” He told her. 

She was suddenly irritated, though with him or herself or the situation she couldn’t have said for certain. “No. It isn’t.” She shifted so she was facing him, looked at him for a moment and then took a deep breath. “You’ve said I should have a normal life. That I should find someone who can offer me marriage and security. Someone who can give me that safe, predictable life that everyone seems to think I need or want.” 

“Yes.” He said carefully. That had been months ago, though. He still believed it, still thought she deserved someone more worthy of her, but he was a selfish enough man that he was going to ignore it. 

His tone was so guarded that the irritation she had felt flared into anger. “Well I don’t.” She said loudly. “I don’t want a safe predictable life; I’d be bored to tears in minutes. And I don’t need someone who can keep me safe. I can keep myself safe just fine, thank you. Maker, I am so tired of being rejected under the guise of being protected. First Anders, now you. I wish you would stop trying to protect me and just jump me already.” She looked up at him and was startled by the grim expression he wore.

“When did Anders reject you?” He asked and she just stared at him. 

_First Anders_. All his doubts and insecurities came flooding back with the words.

She had wanted Anders and he had rejected her. That scenario had never occurred to him. Did she still want the mage? Was he merely a substitute? 

Sweet Andraste, he was tired of speculating about her relationship with Anders. He didn’t care if it was in the past. He didn’t care that this was just one person and his partners numbered in the hundreds. He didn’t care how hypocritical it was. He wanted to know just what exactly had happened between Anders and Anabel, once and for all. 

_Shit_ , Anabel thought looking at him, seeing that ruthlessly determined expression that she hadn’t seen on his face since the night Alrik had been killed. She really shouldn’t be allowed to speak when she was drunk.

She hesitated trying to figure out what to say, and Sebastian repeated the question, more harshly this time. “When did Anders reject you?” 

_Shit_ , she thought again, not understanding quite why Anders rejecting her would make Sebastian so angry. She wished her head were clearer. “When he and I first met.”

His jaw clenched and he tried to control the sudden flare of emotion. It was petty and small and ridiculous that he was jealous of Anders, but it was undeniable. Anders had known her longer. They were friends. Close friends. He remembered seeing them together years ago, walking through Hightown together, laughing and talking. He could still hear Petrice’s vile insinuations, could still see that image she’d put in his mind, Anders and Anabel, gold and fire, twined together. Had Petrice been right? Had there ever been something more than friendship there? 

He had to know one way or the other. “Were you and Anders ever…” 

“Ever?” She asked carefully. She had far too much wine for this conversation. She wanted to be certain she understood what he was asking.

She was going to make him say it. He found himself stumbling over the words. “Did you ever…It’s obvious you care about each other. Were you ever…have you ever …” Maker, why couldn’t he get the simple question out. He hadn’t drunk that much wine, surely. “Did you ever have a relationship?" He looked up to find her frowning at him.

“Have I had sex with him, you mean?” That couldn’t be what he meant. He knew the answer to that. He knew she was a virgin. Didn’t he? She couldn’t remember if she’d told him – actually told him. Maybe she hadn’t come out and said it, but she’d certainly dropped enough hints. Hadn’t she?

It was starting to make her head spin.

Her saying it so bluntly made it even less palatable. “Yes.” He said tightly looking at the fire again. 

“No.” She seemed perplexed that he’d asked. 

“But you wanted to?” _First Anders_. He kept hearing her saying it.

This conversation had taken a very strange turn somewhere along the line. She’d been trying to tell him she wanted him on any terms, had been about to offer herself to him and suddenly he was scowling and cranky and they were talking about the crush she’d had on Anders four years ago. She took another drink, trying to sort it out. 

Had she wanted him? She wasn’t certain. She’d wanted to want him and she’d wanted the opportunity to find out if she did, but she didn’t think that was an answer Sebastian wanted to hear right now. “He was a romantic figure. The tortured healer living in Darktown healing the poor. I dropped a few hints. I flirted. Badly. Anders warned me off.” 

“You care for him though.”

Again, she looked confused by the question. “Of course I do. I love him.” She saw a flare of emotion in Sebastian’s eyes. “He’s saved my life more times than I can count.” She reminded him. “He’s saved Carver. Of course I care for him.” She reached out to touch his arm. “It’s nothing like what I feel for you.”

His whole body relaxed before he realized that she still hadn’t answered his initial question. Had she wanted the man? Did she still? “There’s been no physical contact between you since that time in the Deep Roads?” He asked.

 _Shit_ , she thought again. Instead of answering she took another drink. 

“There has been.” He said flatly. The knowledge hit him like a blow to the stomach.

“He’s kissed me.” She admitted.

“You said I was your third kiss.”

“You were.” She insisted.

He suddenly realized what that meant. “He’s kissed you since then.” 

She could feel herself blushing. “Yes.”

“When?” He asked curtly. 

“Right after you found out about Justice, when I gave him the key to the basement.” 

He exhaled in relief. Almost a year ago. Anders had probably misinterpreted the gift of the key. It hadn’t meant anything.

“And then the night we went with Isabela to find the relic.” Best to have it all out at once, she thought.

He stared at her.

After they’d kissed her in her bathing chamber. After she’d told him she was his. After he’d told her he was hers.

She saw his face close off and his eyes go cold. He started to get to his feet, and she got to her knees and grabbed his arm, preventing him from doing so.

“Let go, Anabel.” He warned. He didn’t want to lose his temper with her. He needed time to process what he’d just heard and decide what it meant. 

Instead of letting go, her grip tightened. “Ask me if I kissed him back.” She ordered. 

The words seemed to penetrate through the haze of anger that had been threatening to overwhelm him. “Did you?”

“No. Now ask me what he said to me after that.” 

“What did he say?”

“” _He’ll never marry you, you know_.’” She saw his jaw clench. “Ask me what I said.”

“What did you say?” He asked through lips that seemed strangely numb. 

“I said that I knew that, and that it didn’t matter. When I said I was yours I meant it. Don’t you ever doubt that. Don’t you ever doubt me.” She finished speaking and let go of his arm, shoved it away actually. She was angry now. She hated being angry. She especially hated being angry with Sebastian.

“You’ve never made love to him?” He said, needing to hear her say it.

“I’ve never made love to anyone!” She told him, raising her voice. “I’m the most ridiculous thing around. A twenty-four year old virgin, who can’t seem to give it away.” She sat back down, legs bent in front of her. She put her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees and stared morosely into the fire, trying to figure out how the evening had gone so wrong. She blinked rapidly. She was not going to cry.

Sebastian stood there for a moment, his alcohol infused brain trying to make sense of everything he’d heard. He stared down at her. She was curled up like a small child. She looked as if she might begin to cry. Cursing his own temper and jealousy for ruining the day. He moved beside her. “I’m sorry, Anabel. You’re not ridiculous. Not at all.”

She just shrugged. “I don’t mind usually and I’m not ashamed of it.” She said without looking at him. “I thought you knew. I thought everyone knew. It certainly is the basis for enough jokes and snide remarks.”

“I suspected. I didn’t know for certain.” He could tell that she was angry. She was never this cold unless she was angry. He hated to hear her like this. 

“Well now you do.” She still wasn’t looking at him. “I’m a virgin. I’m untouched. Well practically. A few fingerprints here and there, but nothing that won’t come off with a good scrubbing, I’m sure.” And apparently she was going to remain untouched. She certainly wasn’t going to be able to seduce him now. Not that she had been able to before this. Twenty-four years old. Untouched. It was laughable.

She turned to face him suddenly. “Did you know no one has ever even seen me naked? Almost a quarter of an age old and no one has seen me unclothed. Can you even imagine it?”

“No.” He admitted. “But I’m afraid far too many people had seen me naked by that age.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “We’re a fine pair, aren’t we? You who slept with everyone when you were younger and me who never wanted to sleep with anyone until I met you. Talk about poor timing.” 

She leaned her head against his shoulder, apparently having forgiven him. He turned and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Neither of them spoke. It gave him too much time to think about what she’d said.

She was a virgin. He knew for certain now. He would be the first. The first to see her naked. The first to touch her.

The first to thrust inside her. 

The physical reaction to that thought took him by surprise. He shifted uncomfortably and reached for the bottle of wine lifting it to his mouth.

He would be the first and he would make it perfect for her.

Suddenly all he could see was her standing before him as he undressed her, peeling away each layer of clothing, until she stood before him pale and perfect and he could take in every inch of her.

Of course she was wearing only a thin cotton shirt right now. A shirt that had come unfastened, and was already slipping off of one shoulder revealing that perfect white skin, and the swell of her breast. One gentle tug, and she would be clad only in her smalls. Removing those would require only two more tugs on the laces that held them in place. 

That was all it would take. 

It would be so easy. 

He took another drink, not because he wanted more wine, but just to keep his hands from reaching for the hem of her shirt. 

“If you’d met me before you joined the Chantry would you have tried to seduce me?” She asked abruptly.

The wine sprayed out of his mouth and she couldn’t help laughing.

“Sorry. Unfair question?” Her eyes twinkled.

He coughed and wiped his mouth. “Unexpected.” He admitted. 

He didn’t even have to think about it. The wild prince he had been wouldn’t have hesitated for a moment. He lifted the bottle again, and she was suddenly kneeling in front of him. She took the bottle from his hand and took a large swallow herself before putting it to the side. “Would you have?” She asked.

“Anabel.” It was both a reprimand and a plea. He was thinking of every way he could take her, every possible position he could have her in.

“Sebastian.” She said, imitating his tone perfectly.

He didn’t answer until he was certain he had control of his voice. “Yes.” He admitted.

He saw a flash of triumph in her eyes. “How?” She asked.

His heart began to race. “How?” 

“How.” She repeated. “How would you have seduced me?”

“You want me to tell you?” He was unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

“Well I’d prefer that you showed me, but apparently that’s not an option.” 

He swallowed, desperately trying to dismiss the images flashing through his mind once again. “We shouldn’t think of such things.” He said, more to himself than to her.

“No? Are you certain?” She sounded disappointed. He didn’t answer. 

A log popped in the fire sending a small flare of sparks in the air. 

“I’ll tell you what.” She said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “What if I tell you what I think you would have done, and you can tell me if I’m right or not? It’ll be like a parlor game.” She said enthusiastically.

He just stared at her.

She seemed to take his silence as acquiescence and moved so she was sitting directly in front of him. “Now, I’ve heard some men seduce with words. Not you, I suspect. You wouldn’t need words, not to get you started anyway. You would have had your status as a Prince, and your good looks. You probably just sat there and they came to you. Am I right?”

“Yes.” Like flies to honey one of his keepers had once said.

“You would have picked someone and invited them to sit with you.” She gave him a careful look. “Was there anything in particular that attracted you? You strike me as having been more of a whim sort of a man, rather than having a type. Whatever happened to take your fancy at the moment, yes?

He nodded.

“What would have taken your fancy about me?”

It took a moment before he realized she was asking him and not just talking to herself. “Your hair. Your skin. Your eyes. Your lips.”

She raised an eyebrow. “All that?”

“Everything about you.” He admitted in a low voice that made her heart beat faster.

“All right.” She said with a nod. She ran her fingers through her hair, making it a little more orderly, tossing pulling a few curls free to frame her face and tossing the rest back over her shoulders. She pulled another of the ties of shirt free and then tugged it down so the white skin of her shoulders was revealed, as well as the tops of her breasts. When he managed to tear his gaze away and look back at her face she was biting first her lower and then that full upper lip between her teeth, reddening them. “So, a place.” She said. “Where would you meet these women?” She asked.

“All over. At court. In taverns. In brothels.” 

She seemed to think about it. “Well, I don’t think I’d have been at court, and a brothel’s not really my style. So a tavern then.” She thought about it. “Women would really just come up to you?”

“Yes. Sometimes I’d send one of my men for them if they caught my eye and didn’t seem inclined to make the first move.” He was curious to see how far she would take this. _You are playing a dangerous game, Vael_ , that more sensible voice warned him. He ignored it. 

“That shows either great arrogance on your part or a rather shocking lack of enthusiasm.” She commented. “Well I definitely wouldn’t have made the first move. Would you have sent your men for me?”

He gave her a smile that took her breath away. “Oh yes.” 

She shrugged as if she didn’t quite understand it. “We’ll pretend I would have accepted the invitation. So you have me at your side. I assume you offer me something to drink. Probably something expensive and deceptively mild tasting but actually lethally intoxicating.” She gave him an appraising look. “You would have been bored simply diving right into things so you’d converse for a while, just to keep things interesting.” She looked thoughtful. “I can’t quite decide if you would have started with the sweet nothings first, or impressed me with your wealth and status.” 

“I couldn’t have done both?” He asked.

“It’s a little obvious. I suspect you were more subtle than that.”

He laughed. “You’re right. Which do you think?” He was impressed with just how well she was doing.

She seemed to think about it. “The sweet nothings. Your status would have been confirmed by the richness of your clothes and weapons. And you probably wouldn’t have been above having one of your friends accidentally call you Prince.” His smile broadened and she shook her head. “Maker, you really were horrible, weren’t you. All right, so you’ve whispered sweet nothings, and fed me enough alcohol that I’ve believed them.” She chewed on her lip for a moment. “You’d have taken my hand. You would have begun with soft caresses.” She looked at him for confirmation.

Instead of answering he took her hand in his, running holding it, running his thumb lightly over her fingers. 

“Then you’d turn it over and kiss the palm. Travel down to that spot on the wrist you’re so fond of.” She watched as he did just that. She missed the glint in his eyes when he felt her pulse racing beneath his lips. 

He looked up at her his mouth poised above her wrist as if awaiting instructions. 

“Teeth. You’d rake your teeth against skin there.” She said and tried unsuccessfully to hide the shiver that resulted from it. She wondered what it was that had made him decide to play along, and then decided she didn’t care. “You’d kiss me. Softly on the mouth.”

He straightened up and reached to take her face between his hands.

“No.” She said pulling back. “You wouldn’t touch me yet, not like that.”

“No?” He asked, curious as to how she’d reached that conclusion.

“Do you know I’m a virgin in this scenario?” She asked him.

He thought about it. “Yes.” He decided.

“Then you wouldn’t hold me in place. You’d want to let me think I could still walk away if I changed my mind.” He stared at her in surprise and she laughed. “I’m right aren’t I?”

He shook his head. “I’m forced to admit that you are.” It was a little unnerving that he was so transparent to her.

“So kiss me the way you’re supposed to.”

He leaned forward and kissed her, just a touch of his lips against hers, once, twice, and then after a small hesitation once more, with more pressure this time, catching her upper lip between his own, running his tongue against it. As soon as he felt her begin to respond he pulled back.

Her breath was coming faster. “You stopped.” She said.

“You said to kiss you the way I would a virgin I was trying to seduce.” 

“You just stop like that?”

He leaned close to her, not touching her but close enough that she could feel the warmth of his skin, “The trick to a successful seduction is to make the one you’re trying to seduce believe that it was all their idea.” 

“Oh.” She wondered what it was about the statement that left her breathless.

“So where would I go from there?” He wasn’t quite sure where this game she’d begun was going to end up but he’d had enough wine to let it play out…for a while at least. He used to be a master at it after all. He could stop it at any time.

Couldn’t he?

Anabel tried to think. Between the wine and the excitement of whatever it was she and Sebastian were doing, thinking proved more difficult that she’d thought it would be. What would Sebastian do? “You’d offer me the chance to leave. Tell me you didn’t want me to do anything I didn’t want to do.” She frowned, suddenly. “No. Not just that. You’d touch me as well. Because if you didn’t touch me, it would be too easy to think and talk myself out of it. So you’d touch me, somewhere that felt good but wasn’t too obviously sexual.” 

It was fascinating to watch her put that brilliant mind to work on the subject. “Very good.” He commented. “So where?”

“My arms or my shoulders…or stroke my hair?” She made the last a question. 

He moved onto his knees behind her putting both hands on her upper arms and letting his thumbs brush against her bare shoulders. He raised one hand and brushed her hair gently back, letting his fingers tangle in the curls. 

“You’d …” She tried to focus as his fingers trailed lightly against her collarbone. “You’d touch me again, but some place more intimate. And kiss me, but not on the mouth, not yet.” 

If she ever put her mind to seduction she would be fearsome indeed, he thought. He slid his hand down to her rib cage, just below her breast, almost, but not quite touching it, and bending his head he kissed her neck just where it joined her shoulder, his mouth hot against her skin. She arched into the touch, tilting her head, and he moved his mouth to her throat. 

Her pulse was racing. “Oh that’s good.” She muttered.

She felt him smile against her neck. “Why is that?” he murmured. She felt his tongue against her pulse.

“Because it makes me want to turn around and face you. And if I do that I’ll be in your arms.”

“Will you?” He asked feigning surprise. 

She got to her knees and turned. The hand that had been in her hair moved between her shoulder blades; the hand that had been on her waist slid around her back. “See?” Her hands had gone automatically to rest against his bare chest. She ran her fingers lightly against his chest hair. When she looked up her breath hitched slightly at the heat she saw in his eyes.

“So what would I do now?” He asked, his voice low. 

She swallowed. “You’d kiss me. Really kiss me.”

“And?”

She tried to think but it was proving increasingly difficult. 

When she hesitated his hand tightened on her waist. 

“You’d tighten your arms around me. Pull me close. Not so I’d feel overpowered. So I’d feel safe. Protected.” She scowled at him suddenly. “You aren’t supposed to be giving me hints. That’s cheating.” 

He pulled her close. “They say all’s fair in love.” And he bent his head and kissed her, really kissed her, until he felt her respond, felt her tongue in his mouth, and her hands slide into his hair pulling him closer still, pressing her body up against his. 

When she made a noise low in her throat he pulled back, almost imperceptibly at first, so that in order to continue the kiss she was forced to be the aggressor. She leaned forward and he lowered himself slowly back, and she followed, not wanting it to stop, until she realized that he was lying on his back and she was sprawled on top of him. 

She pulled away, straightening up with a small frown on her face. “You planned that.”

“Did I?” 

She nodded. “You made me come to you. But at the same time you made me feel like it was entirely my idea.”

“Why?” He asked her.

“So I’d feel in control.” She stared at him as if she’d never seen him before. 

“Do you feel in control?” 

“I did. I’m not so sure now.” She shivered. “I wouldn’t have stood a chance against you as the prince.” 

He shook his head. “No. Few did.” His expression was unreadable.

And suddenly she understood. Understood everything. “This is why you’re so careful with me. Why you hold back. Because you don’t want to be that man again.”

“Yes.” 

She stared down at him, open-mouthed. “That’s so stupid!”

Whatever he had expected her to say, it hadn’t been that. “Stupid?” 

“You aren’t that man. I’m not those women that you seduced before. You don’t have to be careful. Even when you leave me and go back to Starkhaven you won’t be that man.”

It was his turn to stare. “You think I’m going to leave you when I go back to Starkhaven? Why on Thedas would you think that?”

She swallowed hard. “You need someone who can help you take back the throne, not an apostate’s daughter with a questionable reputation, I know that.”

He looked at her not understanding how she could so completely fail to realize her own worth. “It seems I’m not the only one suffering from a surfeit of stupidity.”

She started to pull away, to climb off him and he propped himself up on his elbow, catching her arm, preventing it. “You think I need to marry someone of noble birth? Maybe a descendant of a family once considered a strong contender for Viscount? Perhaps an Amell? Or perhaps someone with a claim to military might. Maybe someone who commanded the respect of everyone in the Freemarches, by way of having thwarted a Qunari invasion? Or do I need someone with a title? A Champion of Kirkwall perhaps?” 

Her heart was pounding. “Is that what you need?”

His hand tightened on her arm. “No, it’s not.”

She looked away, afraid to hear what he would say next.

“I need the woman I love. Because without her beside me, without her spending the rest of her life with me, Starkhaven, taking back the throne, all of it, would be meaningless. I don’t care what her background is or who her parents are. I don’t care if she’s vanquished the Qunari, or only killed a spider in the bath this morning. And the only title I care about her having is my last name added to hers. I need you.” 

She turned to him, blinking back the tears that had flooded her eyes. “You love me?” 

He pulled her down and kissed her, hard enough that it was almost painful. “Yes, you ridiculous woman. Of course I love you.”

She laughed through her tears and leaned to kiss him. “I love you too.” She slid her arms around his neck. 

He didn’t break the kiss, but shifted so he was sitting up with her on his lap, straddling him. He smoothed her hair back from her face, gathering it in his hands so he could look at her, really look at her. He leaned forward kissing the tears from her cheeks and her eyelids. He felt her hands go to the sides of his neck and then she was kissing him back and for a few minutes that was all they did, as if after all the muddle and confusion and misunderstandings they needed the reassurance of gentle kisses and soft caresses and the closeness of their bodies. 

Eventually she pulled back, resting her forehead on his. “Just to be clear, you did just propose to me, didn’t you?”

He kissed her again. “Not at all.” He said, denying it. “I’ve much to do before that happens. I need to talk to Elthina, and Gamlen.” She gave a snort of laughter and her repeated more firmly, “And Gamlen, and I need to pick up your ring.”

She pulled back. “You’ve ordered a ring?”

“Of course I’ve ordered a ring.”

“You’ve been planning this.” She said, almost accusingly.

“Since before Aveline and Donnic were engaged.” He admitted.

That had been months ago. “You didn’t even give me a hint.”

He couldn’t keep from rolling his eyes. “Yes, well for all your cleverness you can be remarkably obtuse about some things. Leave you for Starkhaven, indeed.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “I brought you out here to seduce you. To convince you to make love to me.” Her fingers toyed with the hair on his chest. Her nail brushed against his nipple and she smiled when he shivered.

“Did you?”

She nodded. “I’m not very good at it.”

“On the contrary. You showed remarkable skill a few minutes ago.”

She smiled, pleased by the idea. “I liked ordering you around. Telling you where to touch me.” She frowned. “Do you think that means I’d be a horribly bossy and selfish lover?”

He couldn’t help laughing. “I think it means you’ll let me know what you want, when we make love. That’s never a bad thing.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “You’re going to make love to me.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the skin exposed by the v of her unfastened shirt. “When we’re married, yes.” He moved his mouth down and to the side and his nose was actually brushing against the curve of her breast. She arched into the touch.

“Only then?” She asked, trying not to feel disappointed. 

“Yes.” He said firmly, straightening up. She opened her mouth to protest and he leaned forward and kissed her before she could. “That’s not negotiable, Anabel. I want to do this properly. When I make make love to you I want it to be as your husband with the blessing of the Chantry and the Maker.”

He wanted to marry her. “All right.” She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling him stroking her hair with one hand. She brought her hand up , and unable to help herself, ran her fingers lightly against his chest. “You aren’t going to insist on a year’s engagement or anything, are you?”

He gave a short laugh. “No. Definitely not. As soon as it can be arranged. Harvestmere at the latest.” 

She smiled against his neck. “Anyone would think you were eager for it.” She teased.

“To begin my life with you? I’m very eager for it.”

“Not for the other thing?” She asked innocently.

His hand, which had been resting on her hip, moved to the bare skin of her thigh. “That as well.” He told her.

She hesitated for a moment before saying. “I’ve read that there’s quite a lot you can do without actually...you know…” She blushed and couldn’t finish the sentence. 

“I can only imagine the books you found that bit of information in.” Did he dare? Would he be able to hold back?

She must have seen something in his face, because instead of answering she reached down and took his hand and to his surprise put it underneath her shirt, on the bare skin of her waist. 

“Anabel…” he said but his hand tightened around her waist, and as if of its own volition his other hand moved to the other side. He could almost span it.

She leaned forwards putting her mouth by his ear. “You were looking at me before. When my shirt was wet.” She whispered.

He silently prayed for strength. “Yes.”

She trailed her hand down the side of his neck. “Did you like what you saw?”

He smiled at the sheer brazenness of the question. “Yes.”

Her tongue ran over her lips and she took a deep breath. “Wouldn’t you like to see it without the shirt?” Her cheeks were pink now, but she met his eyes and didn’t look away.

He shouldn’t. He should firmly refuse the offer. Two things stopped him from doing just that.

He knew what courage it had taken for her to make it.

And he truly wanted to see her without the shirt. 

The decision was made in an instant. 

Instead of answering her he slipped his hands out from under her shirt and shifted her back slightly. He slipped out of his own shirt and at her puzzled glance told her, “It seems only fair.” He gave her a teasing smile before reaching out and running a gentle finger down the skin exposed by the opening of her shirt. He stopped when he reached the first tie and looked up at her.

Her lips were parted and her breath was coming faster. Without looking down, he untied it. 

He saw her swallow, and trailed his finger down over her upper abdomen to the next fastening. He continued this way. Three more fastenings untied, three more feather light traces of his fingers down her torso... When he’d untied the last one he left the shirt on and lying closed, showing only a sliver of pale skin when she moved.

He leaned forwards and parted the material, just enough that he could trail his lips between her breasts.

“Your heart’s fluttering like a bird’s.” Her murmured against the skin there.

She shivered at the feel of his breath. “New experiences.” She managed to get out. She hardly recognized her voice.

Sebastian ran his tongue against her skin and smiled when she gasped. “They excite you, do they?” He asked.

“You excite me.” She shifted a few inches away, and reached for the hem of her shirt, and suddenly it was his heart racing. She stared at him a moment and apparently whatever she saw in his face reassured her because she lifted up the shirt and pulled it over her head. Her hair tumbled down around her. 

She was looking down, unable to meet his eyes, and he leaned forward, lifting her chin and kissing her gently on the lips, before brushing her hair back behind her shoulders. 

His breath caught in his throat. Dear Maker, she was perfect. All white and pink and slender soft curves

He reached out a hand that was actually shaking, cupping one breast. He’d been right. A perfect handful. He brushed his thumb against the nipple and she made a small sound. He leaned forward and slipped his mouth around it, tugging softly, moving his hand between her shoulder blades, pulling her closer. He pulled away, and switched to the other breast, sucking gently. He felt her hands move to his shoulders. He looked up. Her eyes were closed, and her head was thrown back.

He raked his teeth lightly against her nipple and she let out a cry and her eyes flew open looking at him. 

He pulled his mouth away. “Do you like that?” He asked.

She nodded slowly and he leaned forward and kissed her, and lay back on the blanket so she was sitting above him, straddling his waist. He ran his hands from her shoulders to her breasts, down her waist to her thighs. He let his thumbs rest in the hollows just at the edge of her smalls. So close to the ties. So simple to undo them. Just the smallest movement of his hands, and he could see her, see all of her. 

He was so hard it was painful, and he was tempted to shift her back, to show her how to rub herself against him, to give them both some relief. 

Instead he pulled her down on top of him, reveling in the feel of her warm skin against his bare chest. He smoothed her hair back from her face. “You are the loveliest thing I have ever seen.” He told her.

She had to try twice before she managed to speak. “Not Harvestmere. Kingsway. If you make me wait more than a month I may very well explode.”

He burst out laughing. “Kingsway.” He agreed. 

Her eyes seemed dark blue. “You’ve made me ache for you.” She whispered. 

His body seemed to throb at the words. “I could make it better.” He said, his voice almost hoarse with his need. 

There was a flare of pure desire in her eyes. “Oh please,” She implored. “Please.” 

In a moment she was on her back, and he was kissing her and she felt his hand on the laces of her smalls, tugging gently and she felt cool air, and then Sebastian’s hand and she arched into his touch.

“I really wouldn’t recommend your first time being on a beach Hawke. Sand in all sorts of unsavory places. Your first time is uncomfortable enough without adding that in.” Sebastian immediately covered Anabel’s body with his own, shielding her. 

Anabel peered over Sebastian’s shoulder. Isabela was leering and Fenris was looking out at the ocean with a carefully neutral expression on his face. She glared at the pirate.

“Trust me kitten. You want a bed. You’ll thank me someday.”

“Doubtful.” Said Anabel through gritted teeth.

Sebastian sat up, pulling her with him, turning so she was hidden from view. He grabbed her discarded shirt and pulled it over her head, swiftly fastening the ties, before leaning over and kissing her, ignoring the definite pout. “She’s right Anabel.” A few more minutes and he would have ravished her on a beach. Kingsway. Definitely Kingsway. “I’ll get the bedrolls.” 

By the time he returned it was almost as if none of it had happened, she thought. She went to take her bedroll from Sebastian. Though they’d been on overnight trips he’d always been very careful to keep the fire between them when they slept.

This time however he ignored her reaching to take It from him. He unrolled both of them and placed them on the ground next to each other. With a small smile she lay down beside him, laughing when he pulled her up against him, spooning her from behind. 

“I love you.” She whispered, and felt him kiss the top of her head.

“I love you too, little one.” 

“Kingsway.” She murmured sleepily.

He tightened his arm around. “Kingsway.” 

 

 

Edwina and Norah were just finishing clearing up from the lunchtime crowd the next day when Varric looked up to see Isabela standing in the doorway of his rooms, a catlike smile on her face. 

“I know something you don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	9. The Left Hand of the Divine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders hears about the trip out to the Wounded Coast. Elthina gets word that an agent of the Divine will be visiting Kirkwall and asks Hawke to meet with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter posted. It was giving me a lot of trouble, and I'm not entirely certain why, but finally, after four rewrites it's done. The next chapter should be up much more quickly.

Anders walked into the Hanged Man just as it was getting dark. The Undercity was unbearable at this time of year; you knew just how bad it was when Lowtown and the Hanged Man smelled good in comparison.

He had his coat over his arm, the feathered pauldrons still attached. It was too damned hot to wear the thing. He didn’t even know why he felt the need to bring it with him. Yes, it enhanced his magic, but unless Meredith planned on sending the Templars into the Hanged Man tonight, there wasn’t enough of a difference to justify bringing it along. It had certainly seen better days. Hawke teased him about it, and frequently offered to get him another, but he was sentimentally attached to this one: he’d pieced it together shortly before he’d left Fereldan using different parts of various robes he had collected, hoping to construct a garment that would offer the magical enhancements of robes without screaming ‘apostate’ to anyone who saw it. He supposed it functioned as a sort of security blanket now, a ridiculous crutch to need, but the simple truth was he felt safer with it near. It was a patchwork of his life in the last few years, the collar from the robes he’d been wearing during his last escape when Nell Cousland had saved his life by recruiting him into the Wardens, the buckles from those ridiculous Tevinter mage robes she’d bought him as a joke that he’d worn on a dare from Sigrun, and continued to wear because it made Nell laugh and irritated Nathaniel.

He felt a pang of nostalgia for that easy camaraderie they’d all had at the Vigil. It seemed to be one of Nell’s gifts, to unite disparate people like that, and he missed it, missed them, all those wardens from the early days, and he knew Justice did too. They’d cared for each other, the Commander and the trapped Fade spirit, truly enjoyed each other’s company. They used to talk together constantly. She’d bring him gifts, things she though he’d find of interest, books on dreaming and on the Fade, and on lyrium, even bringing him a lyrium ring once. He smiled, remembering how grateful he’d been for the attention and time she’d given him when he’d felt so lost in the strange world he been pulled into against his will… 

Anders stopped suddenly in the middle of the stairs. That wasn’t his memory. That was Justice’s. 

_We are one_ , Justice pointed out, almost gently.

Anders’ jaw clenched. _Yes, thank you for the reminder_.

He resumed walking slowly up the stairs to Varric’s suite, telling himself not to be concerned about the slip. He was tired was all. Maker, not just tired, he was exhausted. That’s what had made him confuse the memories. He’d actually fallen asleep last night at his desk and woken up writing. Sleep writing. That was a new one. He needed more sleep, and more time with other people. He’d been spending too much time alone in the clinic. An evening spent with his friends would do him a world of good.

He could hear Isabela and Varric as he reached the door, but not Hawke. She must not be here yet. He supposed it would be too much to hope that Vael would stay home tonight. 

“Bullshit, Rivaini. I don’t believe it for a minute.”

“It’s true!” Isabela was insisting. “I’m telling you, if we hadn’t interrupted them he would have had her, right there on the beach in front of Andraste and everyone!” 

Anders’ froze for the second time since he’d walked into the Hanged Man. No. He must have heard it wrong. He stayed where he was, just outside the door, shamelessly eavesdropping.

Varric snorted. “There’s your first mistake: if Hawke and Choir Boy were going to do the nasty there’s no way you would have stopped them. You’d have sold tickets.”

“And have her first time be filled with sand and chafing and pebbles digging into her back and bum?” Isabela’ sounded outraged at the idea. “No. The poor girl’s waited long enough. I want it to be perfect for her. Well, as close to perfect as the first time ever gets.”

“Aw.” Said Varric. “That’s sweet. But no. I’m still not buying it. Details. I need details.”

“Sebastian, shirtless, Kitten, equally shirtless, the two of them making out like a couple of horny teenagers, and might I just say, apparently I’m not the only who’s been obsessing over those perfect little breasts. He had them in his mouth almost the minute her shirt was off, licking and sucking and…”

“Yeah, and that’s too many details.” Said Varric, interrupting her, and Anders could only silently thank him for doing so.

“Well you get the drift. Then they stop kissing and start talking, and I’m just thinking ‘blah, blah, blah, not the talking again’, when suddenly he pounces, and before I even had time to blink, she’s on her back and he’s halfway on top of her and he’s got her smalls unlaced and his hand between her thighs: I’m telling you, Andraste-Crotch has got a whole skill set he’s been keeping from us.” Her voice was filled with admiration.

 _Shit_. Thought Anders. He leaned his head back against the wall. _Shit_. He’d known Sebastian wouldn’t be able to resist her forever but to actually hear it had happened....

“How’d Choir Boy take your interruption?” Varric asked, still not sounding quite convinced.

“It was just adorable.” Isabela cooed. “He got all protective, pulling her up against him, shielding her from our appreciative yet lascivious gazes.”

Varric snorted. “Your appreciative yet lascivious gaze, you mean. I’m not believing for a minute Fenris even looked at her. To him it’d be like catching his sister in the act.”

“Fine then, my appreciative yet lascivious gaze. You should have seen the look on his face! I’m surprised he wasn’t growling. It was quite stimulating. There’s no way he’s going to hold back for much longer.” Isabela was positively crowing her delight. “I’m going to win that bet and soon, so you’d better be ready to pay up.”

Anders turned around and left without waiting to hear more, returning to the clinic and not sleeping again, though for entirely different reasons this time.

When it began to get light he went into the storage room that doubled as his apothecary and began pulling out various herbs and tinctures and got to work. When he’d finished he left the clinic and headed towards the hidden entrance to Hawke’s.

Sandal and Bodahn seemed pleased to see him, the latter offering tea, and informing him that Messere Hawke was in the garden, having breakfast.

He thanked the dwarf and walked out into the garden. It was cooler here and early enough that the garden was still partly in shade. The fountain in the center was making soothing burbling noises. Everything seemed to be blooming; there was color and scent everywhere you looked. It was like walking into another world, something of a miracle when you considered what it had looked like when Hawke had purchased the place. 

She was sitting at the table holding her coffee cup in both hands, brighter and more colorful than any of the blooms around her. She didn’t notice him at first, and he took a moment to just watch her. She’d dressed in deference to the weather, in a simple sleeveless white cotton bodice that laced up the front and a bluish lavender skirt that hit just above the ankles. Nothing any respectable noble would be seen in, but something she might have worn as a farmer’s daughter in Lothering, he imagined, if she’d ever been allowed to dress as a girl when she’d lived there.

He sometimes wondered what would have happened if he’d headed south on one of his many escape attempts. He’d considered it once or twice, had thought about trying to hide out in the Kokari Wilds but had decided his limited outdoor survival skills made that option unwise. What if he had? What if he had ended up in Lothering and run into Malcolm Hawke? What if he had met her then? What sort of a life would he be living now if he had made that choice? 

Boy, who had been lying on the flagstone patio beside Hawke lifted his head and barked sharply, as if to say, I know you’re there, stop watching her and come over here already.

Hawke looked up at the sound and when she saw him her face lit up and she came running over to him, going up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “You haven’t been here in ages.” She complained. “We missed you last night. Varric said you’d sent a note with one of the urchins saying you’d be there but then you never showed.”

She was smiling up at him. Her nose was sunburned and for the first time in a long while there was a sprinkling of freckles on her nose and cheeks. Her hair was in a loose braid over her shoulder and tendrils of curls were already escaping. 

She looked beautiful. Even more beautiful than usual, and he tried to figure out why that was. There was an almost dreamy quality to her expression, as if she knew a secret, a secret that curved her full lips into a slight smile, that made her eyes seem larger and bluer and more liquid, a secret that seemed to make her almost glow with happiness and he realized what it was. 

Hawke and Sebastian might not have actually had sex, but she was definitely floating around in a post-coital sort of a haze.

 _Shit_.

Her face softened as she looked at him. She reached up and brushed her hand gently against his cheek. “You look exhausted. Are you sleeping at all?” 

He had to fight the urge to lean into her touch. “Enough.” He said, forcing himself to actually take a step back.

She didn’t seem to notice. “Uh huh.” She replied, completely unconvinced by the lie. “Come have some breakfast and some sunshine.” She said, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the table. “They’ll both do you good. And Maker’s tits, take off that coat. You must be sweltering.” 

He couldn’t help smiling as he let her lead him along. She was such a bossy little thing sometimes. When they reached the table he did as she’d asked, tossing the coat on one of the empty chairs. “How does Sebastian feel about your taking the Maker’s name in vain like that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, I might be a little more careful around him.” She admitted. “It just seems polite.” She leaned back in her own chair and rested her bare feet on the edge of the table. “Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, but what actually managed to get you out of the Undercity?”

He hesitated before leaning over and reaching for his coat. He pulled out a small pouch out of the pocket and handed it to her. “This is for you.” 

Curious, she took the bag and opened it, and frowned at the contents, before leaning a little closer and sniffing it. She wrinkled her nose; it didn’t smell bad exactly, just unusual. “Is it tea? I don’t remember smelling anything like this.”

“No, I don’t imagine you would have. It’s a contraceptive tea.” 

She gave him a blank look.

He rolled his eyes. You’d think Leandra, after her own unplanned pregnancy, would have seen fit to enlighten her daughter about such things. “It’s to prevent an unwanted pregnancy, Hawke.”

He saw comprehension dawn, and then she turned bright red, not her just her cheeks, but her whole face, and her neck down to her breasts, and that entirely involuntary response was enough to let him know Isabela’s story had been accurate. 

The arrival of Bodahn with Anders’ tea saved her from having to respond right away.

Anders poured himself a cup and took a sip as he waited for her to recover her equilibrium. 

He’d been uncertain about making it for her at first, but he’d suspected (correctly as it turned out) Leandra wouldn’t have been forthcoming with the information, and while Isabela would certainly be the first one to suggest some sort of contraceptive measure be taken, she was careless enough for it to slip her mind in her enthusiasm that Hawke was finally having sex. Rumor had it that Sebastian had fucked his way through Starkhaven before he became the perfect priest, and no blue eyed bastards had wandered into Kirkwall calling out “Daddy”, so one would assume he knew at least something about the subject, but Anders had learned in Kinloch Hold that men weren’t always concerned with the consequences of their actions when they wanted something badly enough, and Maker knew Sebastian wanted Hawke. 

Would Vael be such a bastard? Anders was forced to admit it didn’t seem likely, but if he did get Hawke with child would he marry her as she deserved? Or merely take care of his ‘obligation’ in some way that would in all likelihood break Hawke’s heart?

It wasn’t something he wanted to see Hawke have to deal with. 

He took another sip of tea and looked over at her.

She had put the pouch down on the table and was staring down at her hands. “How did you know?” She asked faintly.

He looked out at the gardens. “Isabela. She was crowing to Varric about winning some bet.” He looked back at her. “You okay?”

“Yes.” She said after a moment. “Just contemplating the murder of a certain pirate and dwarf I know.” She took a deep breath, exhaled, and actually looked at him. “I haven’t….Sebastian and I….we haven’t actually…I mean.” The blush which had been fading a bit was back in full force and she couldn’t keep from laughing at herself. “Maker. Is it actually possible to die of embarrassment?” She asked.

“Not that I’ve ever seen.” He said with a small smile. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, Hawke, but after overhearing what happened, I thought I’d offer it at least.” 

One moment she was sitting there, staring at him, and the next she had her arms wrapped tightly around his neck hugging him. “Thank you.” She murmured against his ear. “Thank you for taking such good care of me. I don’t say it nearly as often as I should.”

After briefest hesitation he returned the hug, letting himself savor the feel of her in his arms. When she pulled away she had tears in her eyes.

He reached out and brushed them away with his thumb. “You know for a ruthless slayer of Qunari you’re a surprisingly emotional little thing.”

She laughed. “I know. It’s a bit embarrassing really.” She sat back in her own chair uncertain what was causing the tears. It felt like something was ending somehow, that something would be different between them. That was silly though. Anders was her friend; he would always be her friend. It wouldn’t change just because she and Sebastian …. She blushed again and picked up the bag, looking at the contents. “So how does it work?”

“Brew it the way you would any tea. Have a cup at night before you go to sleep. It’s a little bitter. You can sweeten with honey it if you like, just be certain to drink the whole cup. It takes a couple of weeks before it’s effective so you should probably start taking it now.” He found himself slipping into the role of detached healer. It was far easier to treat her as just another patient, rather than thinking of what she and Vael would be doing a fortnight from now.

As if on cue, Sebastian walked into the garden. Boy ran over to greet him, barking happily. Bloody dog. 

He pushed himself to his feet. “I should head out.” He grabbed his coat and slipped it on, nodding to Sebastian as he walked up to them, Boy at his side.

“Aren’t you going to stay for breakfast?” Hawke asked, not hiding her disappointment. 

Anders saw a frown flash across Sebastian’s face, and disappear just as quickly. If he’d blinked he would have missed it. He turned back to Hawke. “No. I’ve been neglecting my patients lately. A cup a day, and remember it takes a fortnight to be effective.” He turned and walked quickly towards the kitchen door. 

“Anders!” She called after him.

He turned to look at her.

“Thank you. Again.” She smiled at him, a shy smile but filled with affection that she didn’t bother to hide, in spite of the fact Vael was standing right there. He had to struggle for a moment to keep his composure. It would have been the easiest thing in the world for her to forget about him, to leave him mouldering down in Darktown and go on with her life among the nobles but that wasn’t Hawke. She wouldn’t forget or desert her friends. He managed to nod. “Let me know when you need more.” He said and left the garden.

Anabel stared after him with a worried frown, only stopping when Sebastian moved in front of her.

“Good Morning.” He said with a smile before bending down and kissing her softly until he felt her respond. Only then did he pull back. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed, and she was looking at him in a way that left no doubt of her feelings for him, love and passion and hope all shining from her eyes. He smiled down at her. “I always think I know how beautiful you are when we’re apart and then I see you and you’re a thousand time more beautiful than I remembered. It shouldn’t be possible.” He said straightening up and moving to the seat Anders had just vacated.

“You must be in love. I’ve heard it impairs your judgment.” She said, blushing at the compliment nonetheless.

“That must be it.” He agreed with a laugh. “You’re a difficult woman to compliment. You do realize that?” 

She gave him an unrepentant grin. “Difficult all around, I’ve been told. I hope you know what you’re getting into.” She sat back in her chair. “What are you doing here so early? I didn’t expect you until after the midday service. I’m not even properly dressed.” 

His eyes ran over her clothes. It certainly wasn’t something one would wear out in Hightown, but he couldn’t help admiring the way the thin cotton bodice clung to every curve, and the glimpse of her slender ankles the skirt afforded. His eyes returned to linger on her breasts. He couldn’t help but remember the feel of them in his mouth and the way she’d arched into his touch. He looked at her face and her expression let him know she was thinking of it as well. He grinned suddenly and she gave a yelp of surprise as he reached over and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him so she was trapped between his legs. 

She blinked at him in surprise. “If there was something you wanted you could have simply asked.” She told him, but her hands were already curving around his neck.

“I thought I’d simply help myself.” He pushed her braid out of the way, and brushed his mouth over the exposed flesh above the bodice, at the same time running one hand smoothly up her rib cage until his hand cupped one breast. _Just perfect_ , he thought again.

“Taking the initiative is always good.” She agreed breathlessly, wondering if he could feel her heart pounding.

“I agree.” He ran his thumb against her nipple, feeling it harden at his touch. The fingers of his other hand toyed with the ribbon that held the bodice closed. He looked up at her with a smile she was beginning to enjoy seeing. “I like you in this.” He told her.

She couldn’t help smiling back. “Brings up all those fantasies of ravishing young peasant maidens, does it?” She made a tsking noise with her tongue. “Such a cliché.” Her breath caught as he tugged the ribbon suddenly and the bow came unfastened.

He pressed his mouth to the newly exposed skin between her breasts. “Cliché or not, there is a certain appeal to the idea.” He murmured, his breath hot against her skin. He felt her heart speed up and he turned his head, nudging the bodice farther open, showing him more of that soft curve and just a glimpse of that perfect pale pink tip. The temptation to pull the bodice down and take her breast in his mouth was almost overpowering, but he forced himself to pull back and deftly refastened the ribbon, smiling when he saw how disappointed she was. “You are temptation personified, Anabel Hawke.” He told her, dropping his hands to either side of her waist. Kingsway, he thought. Definitely Kingsway.

“Am I?” She asked with a small pleased smile that let him know she already knew the answer.

“Indeed.” He pulled her closer. “Kiss me.”

She leaned down and brushed her lips against his, and then let her forehead rest against his. Even with him sitting down and her standing, she was barely a head taller than he. “So you haven’t changed your mind then?” She asked.

He smiled. “No. Not at all. Should I ask the same? I wasn’t the one entertaining other men so early in the day.” His voice was teasing, but even after their talk on the Wounded Coast, even finally knowing everything that had happened between, seeing Anders here with her had been an unpleasant jolt.

To his surprise Anabel blushed. “He brought me something. It was sweet, actually. Embarrassing in the extreme, but very sweet.” She reached for the pouch of tea and handed it to him. 

Sebastian looked at it, and then lifted it and sniffed, frowning as he recognized the distinctive scent. “How on Thedas would Anders know to bring you this?” He gave her a sharp look. “You didn’t ask him for it?” Would she truly share such confidences with the mage?

Her eyes widened and she looked equally appalled. “Sweet Andraste, no! He overheard Isabela and Varric talking last night. Don’t worry.” She assured him when his frown turned into a definite scowl. “I’m already compiling a list of ways to murder them both. You know what it is then?”

“Of course.” His brothers had made certain he was well versed in such things. The last thing Starkhaven needed was a royal bastard running around complicating matters.

“Lucky you.” She commented taking the bag from him. She sniffed it and wrinkled her nose, before putting it back on the table before turning back to him and resting her hands on his shoulders. “I had no idea at all. Anders had to explain it to me. Maker, it was humiliating.” 

“Your mother never spoke to you about such matters?” 

She just raised her eyebrow. “You met Leandra. Does it seem like the type of thing she would bring up?”

“No. I suppose not.” He hadn’t even considered the need for such a thing. Had he grown so careless, he wondered, or was it the strangely appealing idea of Anabel carrying his child that had kept it from his mind? Given the state of things in both Kirkwall and Starkhaven, postponing it was the sensible decision. There would be plenty of time for children later. And he found he rather liked the idea of keeping her to himself for a year or two. His hands tightened on her waist and he couldn’t keep the smile from his lips.

“What on Thedas are you thinking?” She asked him suspiciously. “You look entirely too pleased with yourself.”

His eyes were warm. “I was planning the future.”

She couldn’t help smiling back. “Long term or immediate?”

“Both actually.” 

She leaned in closer. “Anything you’d like to share?” She asked, trailing a finger along his cheek until she reached his lips. She traced them delicately and then leaned forward and ran her tongue along the same path. 

He reached forward and caught her upper lip between his teeth, and then kissed her before reluctantly putting her away from him. “A great many things, but I’m afraid they’ll have to wait. I’m actually here on Chantry business. Elthina would like to speak to you after the noon service. She asked for the Champion of Kirkwall.”

Anabel frowned. “That’s a bit ominous.”

“Yes.” He’d actually gone to Elthina’s office to speak to her of his plans to marry Anabel, but she had been so obviously upset that he’d decide to put it off until after whatever this business was had been handled. “She didn’t tell me what it was, but it’s upsetting her whatever it is. She was going to send a messenger but I jumped at the excuse to come and see you.”

Anabel leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss. I’m glad you did.”

He smiled as he smoothed back her hair. “Do you want me to come and get you after the noon service?“ He asked.

“Oh, I think the Champion of Kirkwall can navigate Hightown without assistance. I’ll meet you there.”

 

She walked into the Grand Cleric’s offices a couple of hours later. As Elthina had requested the Champion of Kirkwall she’d put on a set of leather armor, dark grey trousers, and a green sleeveless jerkin worn over a fine linen shirt. Her hair was in a neat fishtail braid down her back. 

Sister Alma looked relieved to see her. “They’re expecting you, Champion.” 

Anabel opened her mouth to thank her, but stopped when she heard Elthina and Sebastian talking in the next room. 

“Are you never going to address the question, Your Grace? Give a public answer?”

She frowned. Sebastian was frustrated, and not bothering to hide it, which was unusual enough, but he was clearly frustrated with Elthina, and voicing it, which was almost unheard of.

And Elthina sounded just as exasperated when she answered him. “And just what is it that I’ve been asked?”

“About the mages. You could calm this fire if you but stepped forward.”

When Anabel walked in Elthina was smiling serenely. “The Chantry’s teachings are clear on the subject, Sebastian. Those who turn against them would not listen to me anymore than to Andraste.”

“The people want to know which side you favor. It weakens you…”

Elthina cut him off. “This is not a fight which will be won by strength, Sebastian. If the Maker is merciful he will help them find peace. We can only be waiting while they do.” She spotted Anabel and gave a relieved smile. “Champion. Thank you for coming.”

“You know you only had to ask.” She glanced at Sebastian who had been pacing restlessly as he spoke. He looked positively grim. She turned back to Elthina. “What’s happened?”

“Word of Kirkwall’s troubles has reached Orlais. The Divine has sent an agent to investigate.” Elthina moved to stand in front of the window, looking out over the city as she spoke. “I had not expected things to deteriorate so fast after the Qunari attack. I thought people would have had their fill of violence.” She turned back to them. “I was mistaken.”

Anabel was frowning. “Investigate? What does the Divine think might happen?”

Elthina turned to face her. “She is concerned. It is never wise to draw the concern of the powerful. Meet with this agent please. Convince her that drastic measures will not be necessary.”

Drastic measures? Surely Elthina was overreacting. “Well, I certainly don’t want to see the Divine’s armies march against Kirkwall.” She’d meant it as a joke, but neither Elthina nor Sebastian smiled.

“She is the voice of Andraste. She would not turn the wrath of the Chantry against the whole city due to mere proximity?” Sebastian was just as worried as Elthina.

“And were no innocents harmed during the Exalted Marches?” Elthina replied. “She will do her best Sebastian, but she must act first to protect the Faith.”

“You’re serious?” Asked Anabel, looking back and forth between them. “An Exalted March? It seems a bit extreme.” 

“The last time mages rebelled against the Chantry, they ended up ruling Tevinter, Anabel.” Sebastian reminded her. “That cannot happen again.” 

“But that was over five hundred years ago. Surely the response would be different now?" Neither of them responded.

Sebastian had resumed his pacing. “We cannot allow this ridiculous mage rebellion to turn into a Holy War.” 

He saw Anabel flinch at his words and she lifted her chin defiantly. “Is it so ridiculous to want to be free?”

He hadn’t meant. “No. That’s not….I didn’t mean the mages were ridiculous. I meant the situation.” He turned to Elthina. “Meredith has been restricting the mages freedoms since she took charge of the city. Restricting them beyond what the laws allow. And the more she squeezes, the more they fight back.”

“And the more they fight back the tighter she squeezes.” Anabel added. “Surely if you spoke to Orsino and Meredith, to the templars and the mages… the Chantry is in charge of the Templars and the Circle, isn’t it?”

Elthina was already shaking her head. “Oh, Hawke. I’m flattered you think I wield such power.” 

“You underestimate your influence, Grand Cleric.” Said Sebastian.

“If they’re left to their own devices Orsino and Meredith will tear Kirkwall apart.” Anabel pointed out. The Knight Commander and First Enchanter had bickered like children in the middle of a Qunari invasion. 

“They will certainly try.” Elthina agreed.

Anabel tried to control her frustration. It was all very well for Elthina to strive for true neutrality, to go on about Andraste and the Maker’s will, but that simply wouldn't work with Meredith and Orsino running things at the Gallows. The Divine obviously realized that more than Elthina. 

“The agent’s name is Sister Nightingale.” Elthina told them. ”She is said to be the left hand of the Divine.”

Anabel arched an eyebrow. “The ‘left hand’?”

Elthina nodded. “Sent to do the work that might blacken the Divine’s name.”

“Must be a convenient thing to have.” Said Anabel under her breath. “So what argument might convince her?” As if Kirkwall didn’t have enough troubles, now the Divine and this Sister Nightingale have to come poking their noses around. 

Sebastian gave her a small frown, though Elthina didn’t seem to catch the sarcasm “The Divine has heard my protests. I must trust to your powers of persuasion.”

“This is too important to wait.” Said Anabel, suddenly determined. “When can we meet with her?”

Elthina’s relief was palpable. “She wishes to meet in the Viscount’s throne room, tonight.” She took Anabel’s hand and then reached for Sebastian’s as well. “Andraste bless you both.”

They didn’t speak until they were outside. She took his hand suddenly and led him off to the side where there were no people.

“Just how bad is this?” She asked bluntly.

“It’s not good.” Sebastian said. “Honestly I’m not certain. I would say sending an agent to investigate trouble isn’t unusual, but something about this seems off somehow. I’ve a feeling there’s more to it but it’s just that – a feeling. I’ve no evidence to back it up.”

“If everything is on the up and up, why is this Nightingale person travelling under a false name and demanding to meet in disused throne rooms?” She thought for a minute and then asked. “The left-hand of the Divine – is that something most Divines have?” 

He shook his head “Not that I’ve heard, not recently anyway. Perhaps in the early days of the Chantry or during the Exalted Marches such a person might be needed, but now? This is strange, Anabel.” 

“Yes.” She agreed. “Yes, it is.” She looked out over the Plaza.

“Who do you want to bring along?” He asked.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Fenris. He’s had experience with the Imperium. His opinion on what’s happening here and how it compares would be valuable. And I’d like to bring Anders as well.” Sebastian opened his mouth to protest. “You’ll be there representing the Chantry. The mages deserve a voice too.” 

He couldn’t argue the point with her, though he would far rather have brought along a different mage, someone like Enchanter Rhosyn or even Orsino who, when not constantly harangued by Meredith was well spoken and reasonable. “Very well. Might I suggest Varric as well? As much as he’ll deny it he’s an important member of the Merchant’s Guild. Let him represent the secular interests of Kirkwall.”

She nodded, liking the idea. “Yes. And he’ll help keep Fenris and Anders from killing each other.”

 

And so the five of them left Hawke’s mansion late that night. Neither Fenris nor Anders had taken the news of the Divine’s agent well. Fenris saw it as proof that his distrust of mages was justified. Anders as proof of the Chantry was taking the Templars side. They’d begun arguing almost immediately, and were still arguing as they headed towards the stairs to the Keep.

“By now, now even you must see what an injustice the templars are.” Anders was insisting.

Fenris was glowering in a way Anabel hadn’t seen in years. “Must I?” He snarled at Anders. “I see templars trying to control what they have good reason to fear.”

“But they go too far!” Anders exclaimed.

“Hey Blondie, you want to keep the outrage a bit quieter? We’re supposed to be sneaking into the Keep, remember?” Varric looked over at her and rolled his eyes.

Thank the Maker Sebastian had suggested his coming along. The dwarf’s only response to the news had been to raise an eyebrow and ask, “Can we keep the Exalted Marching to a minimum? I keep all my stuff in Kirkwall.”

She looked back at Anders, watching him carefully. She couldn’t see any sign of Justice, but Maker, she could feel him roiling around just below the surface.

Fenris didn’t even look at Anders as he answered him. “Talk to Hawke about her mother. Ask her who went ’too far’." 

“You can't hold all mages responsible for that!” Anders said following after the elf.

Fenris turned unexpectedly stalking over to stand directly in front of Anders. “It doesn't take all mages to cause this.” He snarled. “Only the weak ones.” His contemptuous look made it plain he included Anders in that group. He turned and continued up the stairs and Anders stalked after him. Varric following close behind.

Anabel stared after them. She could still hear them bickering. She looked up at Sebastian. “I shouldn’t have brought them both. This will be a disaster. If the Divine wanted a perfect example of pro-mage and pro-templar forces fighting in this city I’m bringing it right to her.”

There was a sudden flare of light from the top of the stairs, and Varric shouted out. “Hawke! A little help here.” There was shouting and then the sounds of battle, and spells being cast. She and Sebastian ran quickly up the stairs to join the fray.

Their foes, whoever they were seemed to be rushing out from every column of the walkway. She cut down man after man, sensing something in them, not magic, not precisely but something. They attacked mindlessly not seeming to feel it when they were injured or maimed and not stopping until they’d been killed. And then she felt that familiar nauseating pull and whirled around to see the blood mage. She shouted for Fenris and the two of them went charging at him.

He didn’t even have time to cast. The last of his followers soon joined him.

Fenris was staring contemptuously down at the corpses.

“What were they?” Anabel asked. “Something felt off about them, but they weren’t mages.”

“Thralls.” Fenris snarled. “The thralls of blood mages.” 

She looked at Sebastian. “A coincidence? Or do they know our mysterious visitor is expected?”

He shook his head. “It’s difficult to say.”

They travelled the short distance to the door of the Keep. A guard was there, leaning against the door, helmet on. He let out a small snore.

Anabel shook her head, before leaning close to him and shouting. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

“What?” He said starting awake. He looked down and the immediately straightened. “Champion! Yes, fine evening.”

She rolled her eyes. “There are some people loitering just down the stairs. You’re going to need some help clearing them out.” She moved past him and pushed open the massive door. “Aveline’s going to have his guts for garters.” She commented dryly.

The Keep itself was dimly lit. They could see another guard up by what used to be the Viscount’s office, but they made their way to the throne room undisturbed.

When they reached the door she suddenly grinned at Sebastian. “Want a go?” She’d been trying to teach him how to pick locks with only moderate success. 

“Really? You’re going to give me a lesson now?”

“More of a test really. I’m also fairly certain you can’t be arrested for breaking into a throne room if you actually are royalty.” She said it so seriously that he couldn’t help smiling.

“Fine.” He said taking the lockpicks she offered and bending over the lock. To his surprise and relief he was successful. “And it’s done.” He said, with a grin, feeling remarkably pleased with his success.

She grinned back and stepped into the antechamber. She shivered suddenly. “I haven’t been in here since the Arishok.” She commented.

“No one has.” Said Varric. 

She could believe it. The room had a musty unused feel. She walked to the next door and froze as she reached for the handle and the wave of nausea came crashing down.

“How many?” Anders demanded.

“Three.” She said through pale lips. “Powerful. Foul.” She managed to get out. She closed her eyes and pushed it back. She was out of practice and it took far more effort than it had before she’d been injured. Would she even be able to summon a smite if she had to? 

She reached for her weapons and the others did the same and they pushed open the doors. 

The blood mages were standing up near the throne. “Even the Divine fears us now!” The female mage cried out triumphantly. “She should!” 

It wasn’t an easy fight, not like the one outside of the Keep. When they slew two of them the remaining one immediately raised them as corpses. And then the demons came. Hawke slashed and spun and silently blessed Zevran for having given her her new blade and Master Ilen for having made her a matching one. The fight would have been far more difficult without them, and though her hand ached when it was done it wasn’t throbbing the way it had been after they’d fought Nuncio. 

She bent over, catching her breath. “Is everyone all right?” 

There was a sound behind her and Varric called out, but by the time she had turned someone had thrown a flask and she couldn’t see anything. There was a grunt of pain and the unmistakable sounds of bodies falling to the ground and when the smoke cleared it revealed a woman standing there, resheathing her blades. Two corpses lay at her feet. Mages, both of them.

“The Resolutionists.” She commented. “I might have known they would be a part of this.” The accent was unmistakably Orlesian. She wasn’t what Anabel would have expected. She was pretty and fresh looking somehow, with short red hair, and large blue eyes and warm peachy skin. She had an almost mischievous air about her, as if she laughed easily. 

“Sister Nightingale?” Hawke asked tentatively.

The woman smiled at her. “Yes. Or you may call me Leliana.” She frowned suddenly as she came closer. “I know you.”

Anabel blinked. “I don’t think so.”

“Yes.” She stared at her for a moment as if trying to place her and then smiled. “Your eyes are unmistakable. Your brother’s were the same. You both inherited them from your father. I used to see the three of you together.”

Anabel just goggled at her. 

“What was it he called you?” She smiled triumphantly. “Little Hawke.” 

Anabel couldn’t help smiling at the memory. “Yes. He did. I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

“I was a lay sister at the Chantry in Lothering. I saw your brother more often than I saw you.”

Anabel’s eyes suddenly widened. “You’re that red headed sister that Carver had such a crush on! I do remember you." She stared at her trying to come to terms with the coincidence. "How does a sister from a backwater Fereldan chantry end up the left hand of the Divine?”

Leliana smiled at her. “Much the same way a skinny farmer’s daughter ends up the Champion of Kirkwall. Through the Maker’s will.” 

Hawke shook her head, still not quite believing it. She quickly introduced the others. When she reached Anders she found him staring at Leliana suspiciously.

“You traveled with Nell Cousland during the blight.” He said, almost accusingly.

Anabel turned to her in surprise. “You’re that Leliana?”

“I see my identity will be harder to hide so close to Fereleden. Yes I travelled with the Warden. Or the Queen I should more properly say. But that was many years ago.” She was looking at Anders more closely than Anabel would have liked.

“So who were this lot?” she asked, hoping to distract her. “You called them the Resolutionists?”

“An offshoot of a faction within the Chantry.”

“Funded by the magisters.” Fenris snarled.

“There’s no proof of that.” Leliana said quickly. “We suspect they are the ones behind the troubles in Kirkwall.”

“Like any mage couldn’t come up with ‘let’s rebel’.” muttered Anders. 

Leliana looked at him again, before continuing. “I started some rumors that an agent of the Divine was coming to Kirkwall. It’s how they chose to respond that shows how dangerous they are. They have plans beyond just agitating.”

“We’re importing trouble now?" Asked Anabel, raising an eyebrow.

“Your Knight Commander has been vehement enough to attract attention.” 

“You think that Meredith is in danger from these Resolutionists?” Sebastian asked with a frown.

“No. Not Meredith.” Leliana turned face him. “Tell Elthina the Divine has a place for her at the Grand Cathedral in Orlais. She is not safe here.” She turned and left them without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)
> 
> A special thank you to missmeggo929 and spectreantihero for being my sounding boards for this chapter...I needed help with this one.


	10. An Unhappy Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Choices must be made after Sister Nightingale's announcement.

Sebastian stood, immobile, staring after Sister Nightingale, her parting words echoing through his mind. _She is not safe here. Tell Elthina the Divine has a place for her at the Grand Cathedral in Orlais. She is not safe here_  
.  
He felt rather than saw Anabel move next to him, and put her hand on his arm. He turned to look down on him, still unable to speak.

“We’ll let Aveline know about this lot.” She said gesturing to the corpses that lay scattered about the throne room. ”And then we’ll go straight to Elthina. We’ll keep her safe.” She promised.

He stared at her trying to quell the dread and rising panic. “Yes. Yes, we will.” He reached out and pulled her to him needing the comfort of her closeness. Her arms slipped around him, and she stroked his back gently. He felt the fear and anxiety change slowly to resolve. He wasn’t going to lose his family, not again. He pressed a kiss to Anabel’s bright curls. “Thank you.” 

She turned to Varric, still not letting go of Sebastian. “Varric, would you get Aveline?”

Varric hoisted Bianca onto his shoulder. “She’s going to love having to deal this mess.” He predicted as he left the Throne Room. 

She turned back to Sebastian, her concern plain as she looked up at him. 

“These mages are out of control. I can’t believe they would dare threaten Elthina.” Sebastian said in a rush. “Someone who’s done nothing but good, whose life has been dedicated to sharing the Maker’s blessing and wisdom with any who sought it. A truly virtuous woman, the best in all of Thedas.”

Anders let out a derisive snort. “How can you keep standing up for her? That doddering biddy of a Grand Cleric!”

Anabel felt Sebastian’s whole body tense. She could only stare at Anders. She’d known his feelings about Elthina, but she couldn’t believe that he would choose now of all times to air them.

“How dare you!” Sebastian managed to get out. “Elthina is everything a grand cleric should be. She's holy, wise— “

“Spineless... hesitant.” Anders finished for him. “She's clay in Meredith's hands.”

Only Anabel’s presence beside him kept Sebastian from stepping forward and striking the man. He forced himself to count to five before speaking. “In the face of danger, sometimes the bravest thing is to stand back and trust that the Maker will see justice done.” He said low, trying to control his anger.

Anders gave a humorless laugh. “Well if doing nothing sums up your religion, then Elthina is perfect. Personally, I'd prefer a Chantry that favors action over sloth.”

This time he did move forward so he and Anders were only inches apart. “If any harm were to befall Elthina it would be open war. None of us would be safe.”

Anders didn’t flinch from the taller man. “None of you, you mean.” 

Sebastian hands curved into fists by his side. Anabel pushed her way between them, putting her hands on Anders chest and pushing him back before grabbing his sleeve and dragging to the other side of the room. Where he would have fought if Sebastian or Fenris had touched him, he offered her no resistance.

She looked back over her shoulder to see Sebastian standing rigid as Fenris spoke to him in a low voice. She could see his jaw clenching even at this distance. She turned back to face Anders “Are you fucking kidding me? Sebastian’s just found out that the woman he thinks of as a mother’s life is in danger from those fanatics, and you choose now to air your criticisms of her?” 

“You sound like him already.” Said Anders bitterly. “Those ‘fanatics’ are mages who are trying to live free of the Chantry’s rule, just the way your father did. Just the way you might have had to if your father hadn’t done what he did.” She saw just a flicker of unearthly blue in his eyes.

Her eyes flashed back at him. “Those ‘mages’ just tried to kill all of us, including you, simply because they thought we were working for the Divine. How does that make them any better than the Templars who kill mages they suspect are blood mages without bothering to find out? Why are their actions any more just?”

He didn’t answer but she saw the blue slowly fade away, and she let her hands drop from his chest. “The Divine’s involvement doesn’t bode well for any side, Anders. Not the mages, not the templars and certainly not the innocents of Kirkwall. But Sebastian is right. If something happens to Elthina it would be open war. There would be no coming back from it. It’s in everyone’s interests to keep that from happening. What do you know about these Resolutionists?” 

“Why, so you can sic Meredith on them?” He asked bitterly. 

“Stop being an ass.” She told him shortly. “Sister Nightingale said they were an offshoot of a faction. She was talking about the fraternities, right?” 

“She must have been.” He agreed reluctantly.

“It wouldn’t be the Lucrosians or the Loyalists. Not the Isolationists. The Aequitarians have always worked within the rules of the Circles. That leaves the Libertarians. Is that where they came from?”

He didn’t answer but looked over her head, scowling at Sebastian and Fenris. 

Maker she hated when people did that. Without any hesitation she brought her foot down hard on top of his. 

He gave a yelp of surprise. “Maker’s tits, Hawke!” He said with a glare.

“Answer me.” 

“Yes.” He finally admitted. “They’ve gotten tired of the Libertarians trying to make nice with the Chantry.”

So he had heard of them. Her nostrils flared in annoyance. “Are they part of the Underground in Kirkwall or are they working independently?”

“You can’t honestly expect me to answer that.” He said giving her a disbelieving look.

She grabbed his sleeve, dragging him over to where the corpses lay, and crouched down beside the woman who had led the group. She pulled back the woman’s sleeve to show him the bloody knife slash and the other, older scars there. “These are blood mages, Anders, making deals with demons, blindly attacking anyone who gets in their way. They are everything you’ve stood against, you and Justice. Are they established in the city or are they outsiders?”

Some of the fight seemed to go out of him. “I never saw this lot before tonight.”

Which didn’t quite answer her question. Fine. She dropped the woman’s arm and straightened up, her mouth in a tight line. “I want you to give a message to the Underground, from me.”

“What’s left of the Underground, you mean.” Anders said bitterly. 

She ignored the comment. “Tell them I know I’ve been neglecting what’s been happening in the city. Tell them I’m sorry for that, sorry I haven’t taken a more active role. That’s going to change from here on out. I won’t sit silently by any more while Meredith flaunts established Chantry law. But tell them this as well: I’m not fool enough to believe the Resolutionists would have come here without at least some encouragement from within the city. Tell them that if anything happens to Elthina they will answer to me.”

Anders looked down at her. She was glaring down at the corpses. Her hair was coming out of her braid, her shirt was torn at the shoulder and she had a smear of blood over the bridge of her nose and cheek. She looked barely more than a teenager. He couldn’t help a small snort of laughter. “You really think the name Hawke is enough to intimidate them?”

“No.” She said. “Not the name Hawke.” She looked up at him then, and her eyes were deadly, absolutely cold. 

His earlier impression vanished. From that one look he could believe every story told about her, every tale that had made its way through Lowtown and the Undercity, even the ones he knew Varric had made up.

She took a step closer. “You tell them if they harm one hair on Elthina’s head they will answer to me, to the Champion of Kirkwall. This is my city and its people are under my protection, all of them – in the Undercity, Lowtown, Hightown right up to the Grand Cleric herself. And they do not want to fucking test me on this, because I will make Meredith seem like a kindly grandmother in comparison if they pursue this path.” 

“Right.” Said Anders with a sneer. “Good to know you’ve picked a side.” He stumbled back when she gave him a sudden shove.

“Yes, I have.” She answered. “I will fucking stand against anyone who slaughters innocents without a thought, I don’t care who they fucking are – mages, templars, coterie, carta, noble or beggar. These are my people, in my fucking city and I will keep them safe.” She was shouting now. “That’s the fucking side I choose. So you tell your ‘friends’ to tell these fucking Resolutionists to get the fuck out of my city, because they won’t get a fucking second warning!” She was shaking with rage by the time she had finished. 

“I’ll pass it along.” Anders said with a scowl. He pushed past her and left the throne room, ignoring Varric and Aveline and the guards who were standing at the doorway, gaping. 

Anabel stared after him, breathing heavily. She turned when Sebastian came up beside her. He took her hand and lifted it to her lips, his eyes shining with pride. Fenris had the same admiring look. She glanced over at Aveline and Varric. Aveline gave her an approving nod and Varric was actually grinning.

She gave him a scowl. “What are you smiling about?”

“Good speech. I’d say it was one for the history books, but if you took all the ‘fucks’ out of it there wouldn’t be that much left.”

She smiled, suddenly tired beyond belief and rested her head against Sebastian’s chest. “I’m sure history will clean it up.”

“Seems a shame.” 

She looked up at Sebastian. “We should go see Elthina. She can go to Orlais while we straighten this mess up.”

“Yes.” He agreed. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the blood from her cheek and nose. His expression softened as he looked at her. “I love you. Very much.” He said low, so only she heard it.

“I love you too.” She whispered, trying to ignore the sense of growing unease, that maybe it wasn’t going to be that easy.

 

The sun was just coming up as they left the Keep and made their way to the Chantry. Elthina was still in the chancel following the first service of the day. They carefully explained to her what had happened, told her about the Divine’s invitation to seek shelter in Orlais. 

Elthina refused to even consider leaving Kirkwall. “When I became Grand Cleric I took a vow to protect the people of Kirkwall. I will not desert my flock.”

“Sister Nightingale to a great risk in warning you. The danger is real, your grace.” Hawke said.

“ _There is no greater devotion than to lay one’s life at the Maker’s feet. There is no better death than to take a blow for another_.” Elthina quoted.

“Sister Nightingale thinks there will be war.” Said Sebastian, raising his voice.

“Then I must make peace.” Elthina looked serene, utterly certain of her decision. 

Anabel could see Sebastian’s fear growing to near panic. “If you will not shield yourself than I will be your shield." He said. "You will come through this safely, in the Maker’s name, I swear it.” 

The words seemed to echo in the emptiness of the Chantry.

Elthina merely smiled and patted his arm. “Sebastian. Calm yourself. I am Grand Cleric. Who would act against me?” She left the Chancel to return to her office.

Sebastian turned to Hawke. “She doesn’t understand. She can’t comprehend the evil that threatens her.”

“Talk to her.” Anabel told him. “See if you can convince her go to Orlais, even if it’s only for a few months. I need to talk to some people. See if I can find out anything else about these Resolutionists and if they are truly the threat Sister Nightingale claimed they are. I’ll come back as soon as I’ve learned something.”

Sebastian pressed a kiss to her cheek and hurried after Elthina without another word. 

She turned to Fenris, who had accompanied them. “I know you haven’t had any sleep either, but would you come with me?” 

He gave a nod of his head. “Of course. You wish to question the Abomination further?”

In spite of her irritation with Anders, she winced at the name. “Please don’t call him that. No. Anders won’t tell me anything more, not yet anyway, and I’m hoping he’s delivering my message to whatever is left of the mage underground. No. I need to talk to someone else, and depending what he tells me I may need to speak to others.”

“Very well.” Fenris agreed. “Where are we going?”

“To the Keep. I need to speak to Seneschal Bran.”

She saw the confusion on Fenris’ face but he didn’t question her. “Very well.”

 

Bran was outside his office when they arrived. “Ah the Champion of Kirkwall. A lovely mess you left us this morning.” He said, not bothering to hide his irritation. “I had hoped you’d broken yourself of the habit of leaving disaster in your wake.” 

She didn’t respond to the jibe. Truth was she felt sorry for him. He’d lost his only son and the Viscount, a man he considered a friend, both in one night and was now left with the thankless task of running the Keep, without a Viscount and with Meredith and her templars breathing down his neck, just waiting for an excuse to toss him out. She wondered if she would have been stubborn enough to stick it out, or if she would have simply retired, just given up. She’d heard rumors that Bran was drinking more than was healthy, though never while at work, and that he was spending a great deal of time at the Blooming Rose. He’d put on weight in the last few months, and there were puffy circles under his slightly bloodshot eyes. 

“I need your help.” She said bluntly.

“Make an appointment with my secretary.” He told her and tried to move past her towards his office only to find her blocking his way.

“It’s important Bran. Not to me, but to Kirkwall.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Things important to Kirkwall haven’t been a great concern of yours in the last few months.” 

She flushed at the implication, but she couldn’t deny it. “No, they haven’t. And they should have been.” She said, looking him straight in the eye.

There must have been something in her face because instead of brushing her aside he gestured to his office. She turned to Fenris.

“I’ll wait out here.” He told her. She smiled gratefully and followed Bran into his office, slipping into the chair he indicated. He closed the door and moved to sit behind his desk. He looked at her expectantly.

“What can you tell my about the Divine Justinia?” She asked.

 

Fenris waited outside of Bran’s by the railing, ignoring the stares he received. Hawke had been in there for close to an hour when he finally saw her emerge.

She walked over to join him but didn’t speak and her usual easy smile was missing. No longer angry as she had been after they’d spoken with Sister Leliana, or determined as she’d been when they’d set out for the Keep, she seemed almost defeated somehow.

After a moment he asked. “Your talk did not go well?”

“It was very informative.” She said quietly, standing by the railing looking down at the people and the templars, mixed in with the guards. They stood there in silence for a moment.

“I’ve been enjoying the peace of being Champion.” She said abruptly. “Like Elthina I thought things would be better after the Qunari were defeated. Have I just been ignoring problems? Have I become one of those Hightown nobles who because they don’t see the trouble, don’t believe it exists?”

Fenris hesitated before answering. “You more than anyone in this city were entitled to some peace.”

“So that’s a yes, then.” She smiled, but there was no laughter in her eyes and the smile quickly faded. “When I tell Sebastian what I’ve learned, I know what he’ll do. I know what will happen.” Her eyes were suddenly filled with pain. “I’m going to lose him, Fenris.” She said, so softly he barely heard it.

He frowned. “Sebastian cares for you deeply.”

“I know. But he won’t have a choice. And I understand that. If I were in his shoes I would make the same choice.” She straightened her shoulders and pushed away from the railing. “I need to go back to the Chantry.” 

She and Fenris parted ways at the Chantry stairs. She spotted Elthina as soon as she went in, but didn’t see Sebastian with her.

Elthina looked at her warily as she approached. “I hope you haven’t come to try and talk me into leaving again.” 

Anabel shook her head, though her heart sank as she realized Sebastian had been unsuccessful. “No. You’re being true to yourself and to your faith. I can’t fault you for that.”

The Grand Cleric snorted – or at least came as close to a snort as someone of her exalted position ever would. “I wish you would explain that to Sebastian. I haven’t seen him this worked up since that day he left his notice on the Chanter’s Board.”

“He’s worried about you. He wants you safe. Do you know where he went?”

“He stormed out of my office after failing to convince me to go to Orlais as he wished. I though perhaps he’d gone to see you.” 

“No.” She said. She thought for a minute. Where would he go when he was this upset? And almost immediately she knew. “I think I know where he might be. I’ll talk to him.” She said with a wistful smile.

“Is everything all right, Hawke?” Asked Elthina, with a concerned frown.

“It will be.” Anabel answered, praying that it wasn’t a lie. She turned and left before she had to explain the remark further. 

 

She paused for breath before she pushed open the doorway and stepped out onto the rooftop of the Chantry’s main tower. She spotted Sebastian almost immediately, leaning against the battlements, looking out over Kirkwall. When he saw her he straightened, and when she reached him he enfolded her in his arms. She closed her eyes, leaning against him, inhaling his scent. 

“How did you know I’d be here?” He asked, pressing his cheek to the top of her head.

“You said when it was too much, when you were overwhelmed this is where you would come.” In spite of the heat there was a strong wind blowing up here. The day was hazy though; you could barely see to the Gallows.

“I talked with Bran.” She said after a moment. “I asked him what he knew about the Divine, if he thought the information Sister Nightingale had shared was accurate, if the Divine would have sources that could be trusted.” She turned, still leaning against him, but looking out over the city. “Justinia has an interesting past, I hadn’t realized quite how interesting.”

“Yes.” He agreed. “She was quite a controversial choice for Divine.”

“Bran says she’s made a name for herself as one of the masters of the Grand Game in Orlais. That she’s had close dealing with the Bards, and that any information she had or shared would be unimpeachable. That if she says Elthina’s life is in danger we should believe her.” 

“I suspected as much.” He let go of her and began pacing restlessly back and forth in front of her. “If Elthina won’t leave Kirkwall, then I’m not leaving either. I can’t abandon her, Anabel, not when she’s been given such a warning and refuses to heed it.”

“Elthina’s lucky to have you.” She said, surprised at how calm she sounded.

Sebastian scoffed. “She’d be luckier were I willing to hit her over the head and drag her to Orlais. This isn’t her battle. But if these maleficarum rebel against the Templars she’s going to put herself right in the middle and be torn to pieces. She refuses to see reason. I see no way that this ends well.”

“Not if things continue the way they have been.” She agreed.

“Frankly, both sides are despicable. I won’t leave Elthina at the mercy of either.”

“We’ll protect her.” Anabel promised. 

He looked at her, feeling as if his heart were tearing apart and knowing full well that he was about to break hers. “I can’t do that if I return to Starkhaven. Taking back Starkhaven would mean leaving Elthina behind. The only way I can protect her…” He sank down on the battlements unable to finish the sentence.

She leaned forward and kissed him on the eyelids, first one and then the other. “Is to renew your vows. I know. I understand.” She lifted a hand and stroked the side of his face gently, looking at him as if she were trying to memorize him. “We keep Elthina safe. That’s the most important thing.”

She couldn’t be so understanding. He looked at her, saw the undeniable pain in her eyes. 

She gave him a reassuring, if somewhat tremulous smile. “She’s your family, Sebastian. If I could keep my mother or Bethany or Da safe? I’d do almost anything for that. How can I fault you for doing the same?”

For a moment he could only stare at her. “I love you, Anabel. If there were any other way...”

Tears welled up in eyes that seemed almost emerald. “I know you do. And I love you. That won’t change. Not ever.” 

His eyes searched her face. “So I’ll stay here. Renew my vows.” He seemed unsure of the decision even as he said the words out loud. “It’s been fifteen years since I lived in Starkhaven. The people there are only a memory. Kirkwall, the Chantry. That’s what’s real. This is where I belong.” He tried to ignore the fact that he sounded like he was trying to convince himself. He turned to look at her again.

She tried to smile. “It’s Starkhaven’s loss.” She said lightly.

His face softened as he looked at her. “At least I’ll be near you. At least I’ll get to see you. The thought of not having you in my life is unbearable. I don’t want to be without you.”

“You won’t be.” She assured him. “I told you I was yours. That won’t change. I’ll always be yours, even if it’s not the way I thought.” Her lip began to tremble and he couldn’t help pulling her close. She buried her face in his chest, and though she made no sound, her whole body shook with sobs.

He held her, not knowing what he could possible say to her. He should release her. Let her find someone else. Someone who would love her and be able to give her everything. He should but just the thought was like a knife to his heart. 

“You mean the world to me, Anabel.” He said, trying to get those other words out, trying to tell her to move on. He would be a priest. He couldn’t have that life with her. Priests couldn’t marry. 

And then something occurred to him. Something he hadn’t even considered. He grabbed her suddenly by the shoulders, so tightly that she let out a gasp of surprise. “Join me in the chantry, Anabel.” He said frantically. “Pledge yourself to the Maker. I’ll convince Elthina to let you become a sister. We can have a chaste marriage.”

She could only stare at him, her heart pounding wildly. “I don’t know what that means.” She whispered. 

“We’ll live together. Serve together. Dedicate our lives to doing the Maker’s work. But as man and wife. Chastely. Pledged to be faithful to the Maker and Andraste. Marry me, Anabel.” He implored.

Her eyes searched his face. “And we’ll be together?” 

“Until death do us part.” He promised.

“That’s all I need to know. I would gladly swear any vows to be beside you.” She said simply. 

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank the Maker.” He said, pulling her back into his arms, crushing her to him. “I can’t imagine a life without you.” He sank down on the battlement, pulling her into his lap, and holding her, savoring the feel of her. She would be his, not the way he truly wanted, not the way he had planned, but his all the same and he would love her and cherish her for the rest of their lives, lives that they would share. He pulled back to look into her face. There were still tears in her eyes, but her happiness and her relief were obvious. 

“I thought I would lose you.” She said. “I thought…” 

He pressed his mouth first to one eye and then the other. “No. You’ll never lose me. I love you Anabel Hawke. You will be my wife and I will love and cherish you forever.” He ignored the small voice in the back of his mind that said he was being entirely selfish doing this. “Mine.” He said, resting his forehead against hers.

“Yours.” She agreed, wondering if she was mad to even be considering this, but the idea of living her life without him was unbearable. At least this way they would be together. Always. It was so much more than she’d thought she would have a few minutes ago. She suddenly felt as if she could breathe again. 

Sebastian moved her from his lap, and stood. She stared up at him, not bothering to hide her feelings for him. He’d never had anyone look at him with such love and complete trust. Every day for the rest of his life he would strive to be worthy of that trust. He brushed her hair back from her face.

“Go back to your home. I’ll speak to Elthina, immediately and join you there as soon as I can. She’ll recognize the purity of our love.” He said, more to himself than to Anabel. He looked at her and saw a hint of worry there. He lifted her chin and pressed a light kiss to her lips. A chaste kiss. “I promise you, nothing will come between us.”

He saw her to the Chantry doors and as soon as they had closed went straight to Elthina’s office, walking in without waiting for Sister Alma to announce him.

She looked up from her desk in surprise when he burst in.

He couldn’t keep from smiling. “Congratulations are in order, Grand Cleric! Anabel has agreed to pledge herself to the Maker and join me in a chaste marriage. We should plan it for as soon as possible.” 

He looked at Elthina expecting to see joy on her face but she looked absolutely horrified. His smile disappeared, as she composed her features into a carefully neutral expression.

For a moment she just stared at him. Then she put the papers she’d been looking at neatly aside. “Close the door, Sebastian, and sit down.” She told him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	11. Elthina's Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sebastian makes some unwise choices.

“Close the door, Sebastian, and sit down.” Elthina told him. 

The eager smile disappeared from his face. He did as she asked and returned to stand in front of her desk. She still didn’t speak, just indicated the chair opposite her. 

“Is there a problem?” He asked as he took a seat.

Elthina closed her eyes for a moment, praying to Andraste to give her patience for what she was certain was going to be a very trying conversation. “Aside from the fact that I can think of few people in all the Free Marches who would be less suited to a life in the Chantry or a chaste marriage than Hawke?” She asked.

He started to interrupt and she held up a hand to silence him. “Yes, there is a problem. I cannot perform a chaste marriage ceremony for you, because you are in fact no longer a brother in the Chantry, Sebastian. Or had you forgotten that?” 

He leaned forward eagerly. “So let me renew my vows! Let me be a brother again. I know Hawke’s religious upbringing has been lacking, but I could instruct her. You yourself speak constantly of how she does the Maker’s work.” 

“Sebastian! You know full well there is a vast difference between doing the Maker’s work and devoting your life to His service. And as for your renewing your vows, if I wasn’t willing to let you do so before this, why would I think you were ready to today when you come to me with this harebrained scheme. Did you give it any thought at all?”

He brushed aside her concerns with a wave of his hand. “Of course.”

Her nostrils flared in irritation. “How long?” She asked.

He blinked at her. “How long?” He repeated dumbly.

“How long have you desired a chaste marriage with Hawke? You’ve been communicating and meeting with supporters in Starkhaven for months now, and yet suddenly you want to throw all that away and renew your vows. When did that change? Have you given it any thought at all or are you acting on a whim? Because this reminds me very much of another reckless decision you made, when you renounced your vows. You regretted that decision almost before the day was out.” 

His mouth tightened into a mutinous line. 

Did he honestly think she didn’t know what was behind this ridiculous decision? He was trying to protect her, and thought the only way to do so was to stay at her side. She loved him for it, but it wasn’t a sacrifice she was going to let him make. She leaned forwards in her chair, and when she spoke again her voice was gentler. “Sebastian, think about what you are considering. When you renounced your vows so impulsively, it changed the whole course of your life. You’ve had to live with the consequences of that decision. Are you willing to live with the consequences of this one? The consequences of what entering into a chaste marriage with someone like Hawke might mean, for both of you?”

“This is what I want.” Sebastian insisted stubbornly.

Elthina straightened up, a disapproving frown on her face. “And what of Hawke and what she wants?”

A scowl marred Sebastian’s handsome features.

“The fact that your desires are your first concern, rather than the well-being and happiness of the woman you profess love is proof of how right I am to refuse your request.” 

“I love Anabel, and she loves me.” He proclaimed, raising his voice.

“Oh Sebastian, do you think that I am unaware of that?” _I probably knew it before you did_ , she thought. “But are you even considering Hawke’s own desires? Are you considering what is best for her? No.” She shook her head emphatically. “No, Sebastian. I will not agree to this.”

Sebastian’s heart sank. It wasn’t like that, he wanted to say. It wasn’t the way she was making it sound. Of course he was concerned about what Anabel wanted, of course he wanted what was best for her, and the answer to both of those was to be with him. He would care for her, cherish her, love her the way no other man ever could. Elthina had to allow this. How could he tell Anabel he’d been wrong, that he had to retract his offer? He couldn’t. He looked up at Elthina. “Please, Your Grace.” He pleaded. “I told her we would be married. I can’t go back to her and tell her we can’t...” 

“There is nothing to keep you from marrying Hawke if you wish to, Sebastian.” Elthina told him bluntly.

His confusion was plain. “But you just said…”

“I said I would not agree to a chaste marriage, or to Hawke joining us as a sister in the Faith. However, as you are not a brother of the Chantry, there is absolutely nothing stopping you from taking a wife, from swearing your vows in the Chantry, before witnesses, as thousands of others have done before you.”

“If I marry Hawke like that I’ll never be able to renew my vows.” He would have to leave Elthina, perhaps not right away, but eventually, and then how would he keep her safe? She had to let him renew his vows. “I want to be a priest.” He insisted. “I want to serve the Maker as a brother. I don’t want to give up that life.”

“Might you not gain even more in a true marriage with Hawke? The pleasure that a husband and wife were meant to share? Children? ” Elthina’s voice was gentle.

His eyes closed as the pain seemed to tear through him. Had it really been only yesterday that he had been thinking of children with Hawke, considering when might be the best time for it? Had it only been the day before that he had run his hands over her bare skin, and tasted her breasts and let his hand slip between her thighs…. He clenched his jaw. “That’s not as important as serving the Maker.” He said stubbornly. “There must be something I can do to prove my sincerity to you. To make you believe that this is truly what I want.…” He saw Elthina’s frown and hastily corrected himself “What we, what both of us want.” 

Looking him just now, she had thought perhaps he would be honest with himself, that he would admit what he truly wanted from a marriage with Hawke, and then as she watched he had pushed that aside, continuing to insist that he wanted this chaste marriage.

She loved him dearly, but sometimes she wanted to shake him until his eyes rattled in his head. He might be thirty-one years old but that impulsive stubborn boy that he had been when he’d first joined them was still alive and well and making his presence known. How had she dealt with him back then?

 _By making it his choice_. The smallest of smiles curved her lips, just briefly. She folded her hands together and placed them on the desk in front of her.

“Very well, Sebastian. Here is my offer. I will marry you to Hawke in the Chantry in the traditional ceremony.” He opened his mouth to protest and she held up a hand for silence. “You will live together not here at the Chantry, but in Hawke’s house. If, at the end of one year, you have remained chaste and you still wish to reaffirm your vows as a brother, and Hawke sincerely wishes to join us as a sister I will withdraw my objections.”

Sebastian sat there stunned by Elthina’s proposal. Live with Anabel, the two of them alone in her mansion. Could he resist the temptation? Risk losing his life in the Chantry? Risk being not being able to remain with Elthina and keep her safe?

Could he risk losing Anabel by not marrying her?

 _No_. 

“I accept your offer.” He said grimly and turned to leave Elthina’s office.

“Sebastian.” 

He stopped at the doorway.

“I need not tell you what an unusual offer this is.” It was a gamble on her part, just as offering him his freedom thirteen years ago had been a gamble, and the Chantry most certainly did not approve of gambling. “I would ask that you not reveal it to anyone other than Hawke.” 

She saw his jaw clench. He nodded, and left without another word. 

Elthina sighed and shook her head. She could only hope that Sebastian would come to his senses sooner rather than later. 

 

For the first time Anabel wished the garden was bigger. She’d never thought so before, but pacing back and forth nervously, waiting for Sebastian to arrive after speaking with Elthina, it suddenly seemed far too small. At least she could breathe out here. She’d paced around the house for a while and it had felt stifling.

She’d returned to the home after parting with Sebastian at the Chantry door, bathed quickly and changed into a lightweight linen gown in a bright blue that laced at the sides, trimmed in a gold brocade ribbon – a proper Hightown ladies’ gown, but wearing it as she did, with no underdress or petticoat beneath it, still cool enough for the hot weather. She’d tied her hair back in a matching blue ribbon; she’d been too impatient for anything more complicated than that. 

What was taking Sebastian so long? 

She supposed Elthina might have been busy, that his talk might have been delayed.

She didn’t want to think of the alternative; that Elthina might have refused his request. That they wouldn’t be allowed even a chaste marriage, and the delay was caused by his trying to find a way to tell her that.

She picked a pink rose from the bush she was standing beside and slowly plucked the petals off, crumbling them and letting them drop to the flagstone path.

She must be mad. What did you even do as a Chantry sister? She knew only slightly more about that than she knew about being a married Chantry sister, which was nothing at all. Would she and Sebastian share a room? Be allowed any time alone together? She supposed she’d have to give up all her things. Didn’t sisters do that when they took their vows? She could feel her anxiety level rising. She somehow resisted the urge to flee to the Hanged Man and drink a large quantity of whiskey. She could do this. It was the only way she and Sebastian could be together. 

Saying yes had been the right thing to do. She wanted to be with Sebastian, more than anything, far more than she wanted whiskey, or her house, or her things. 

“Mistress?” Orana appeared suddenly at her elbow and Anabel gave a small start. “I’m sorry, Mistress. I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

Anabel smiled reassuringly. “It’s fine Orana, my mind’s just in the clouds. What did you need?”

Orana held up the pouch that Anders had brought yesterday morning. Maker’s Breath. Had it really only been yesterday? “You left this on the table and I wasn’t certain what you wanted done with it.”

Anabel stared at it.

She wanted it more than she wanted sex apparently.

Her throat tightened remembering what had happened in the garden earlier, what had happened at the Wounded Coast. 

She’d thought she was going to have everything. That hadn’t lasted very long at all had it? Not even two days. She blinked furiously, refusing to let herself cry. They would still be together. Not in that way, but in every other way. In every way that mattered. She took the pouch from Orana. “I’ll take care of it.” She murmured.

Orana curtsied and left the garden and Anabel wandered over to the table and dropped the pouch on top of it. She should give it back to Anders she supposed.

Then something occurred to her.

She really was going to die a virgin.

She sat there for a moment, trying to decide if she was going to laugh or cry at the realization and was spared from having to make the decision when Sebastian walked into the garden.

“Oh, thank the Maker.” She said, almost sagging with relief. She got to her feet and ran to meet him. She’d been about to throw herself into his arms when she suddenly stopped short. “Am I allowed to? To touch you – hug you I mean?” 

She looked so worried and uncertain that he couldn’t help reaching out and pulling her close. “Yes.” He assured her. “Of course.” The truth was he had no idea, but if Elthina was going to play with the rules then he didn’t see any reason that he couldn’t either. He felt Anabel relax against him, and he stroked her hair gently for a moment before she pulled back and looked up at him expectantly.

He couldn’t help smiling at the picture she made, every inch the lady this afternoon, but for that glorious hair, loosely tied back. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

He wasn’t going to lose her. 

“Well?” She finally prompted, when he didn’t speak. “Did you speak to Elthina?”

He hesitated a moment before replying. “Yes.”

“And?” She prompted. “Will she allow it?”

“Yes.” He said, adding quickly. “With certain conditions. Come and sit with me.” He led her over to the table, holding out a chair for her, and had moved to sit next to her when he saw the pouch of tea on the table. He frowned.

She followed his gaze and scooped it up. “Sorry. Orana didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t have a chance to put it away. I suppose I should give it back to Anders. It’s probably not cheap or easy to make. I’m sure someone must need it more than I will.” To her horror she felt her eyes fill with tears. “Dammit.” She muttered, wiping at her eyes. She looked up at Sebastian apologetically, to find he looked absolutely stricken. 

He sank down into the chair. “I shouldn’t ask this of you.” He said in a low voice. 

“No.” She said immediately “I want this, I truly do. I’m just being silly.” She tried to make a joke of it. “Of course it would have been nice to have had sex once. I don’t suppose that’s an option? I mean if you just threw me on the ground here, technically there aren’t any vows to break yet, right?” She said with what she hoped was a teasing smile.

Sebastian could only stare at her. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t spend a year married to her, living with her and remain chaste, not if she was going to joke like that. And if they did give in, if they did make love, if he couldn’t retake his vows he’d be forced to leave Kirkwall for Starkhaven, and Elthina’s life would be put at risk. 

Her smile disappeared. “Sebastian, you know that was a joke, right? I do know what a vow of chastity entails.”

But she wouldn’t be making that vow. Not for a year at least. If they were alone together night after night for an entire year how would they be able to resist? He stared down at his hands not knowing what to do or say.

She was suddenly kneeling in front of him taking his hands in hers. “I know it occasionally seems as if I don’t take things as seriously as I should, but I take the vows I make very seriously. If I make a vow, I keep it.”

It was true. It was one of the many things he loved about her. 

And then the solution was suddenly obvious: she couldn’t know.

If she believed the marriage was a chaste one, if only he knew that there was nothing stopping them from making love, then he would be able to be strong enough. 

He would be able to resist her.

He pulled her up and sat her down in her chair again. “I know you do.” He paused before continuing, knowing he had to be very careful in how he presented this. “Elthina’s is willing for us to have a chaste marriage, but she has certain conditions.” 

_It wasn’t a lie._

“She wishes us to live here in your house. The marriage will appear to everyone to be a marriage like any other.”

 _Still not a lie_.

Anabel was frowning. “Did she say why?” 

He kept his expression serene as his brain scrambled to come up with an explanation. He found one and grabbed onto it. “You’re the Champion of Kirkwall. It’s important the Champion remain neutral while things are in such turmoil here. Were you to join the Chantry as a sister, that neutrality would be suspect.”

_Also not a lie. And not anything Elthina had said._

She seemed to accept it. “So I won’t take vows as a sister?”

“Not formal ones. Not right away. But for the purposes of the marriage you would be considered a sister and be expected to follow the vow of chastity.”

 _A lie. But the only one_.

“Well, at least I’ve had practice with that.” She said dryly. “And you’ll take your vows as a brother?”

“Yes. I will.” _Eventually_. “Again, even the husband of the Champion should not appear to take sides. When things have settled in Kirkwall, perhaps in a year or so, we can let everyone know the details of the marriage, and can both openly take our vows.”

_The truth, but it had the flavor of a lie._

Her mouth curved into a smile. “You’re going to be my husband.” She said.

“Yes.” He agreed, his voice determined. “I am.”

She gave him a mischievous look. “You never did actually ask me you know.”

He couldn’t help smiling back, all too willing to push aside the growing guilt he was feeling. “I suppose I’d better take care of that then.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring that he had stopped to pick up on his way here. He got down on one knee in front of her and took her hand in his, looking up at her.

“Anabel Esme Hawke. I have loved you from almost the first moment I set eyes on you. You are, quite simply, the most extraordinary person I know and my world would be a far darker place without you in it. If you would do me the very great honor of being my wife, I swear to you that I will love and cherish you, and be beside you always, in this world, and the next.” Looking at her, he had never wanted anything and more all the romantic speeches he had considered and planned so carefully seemed to vanish from his mind. “Marry me, Anabel.” He implored her. “And I will spend the rest of my life proving myself worthy of you.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he was surprised to find himself blinking back tears.

That at least was entirely the truth.

For a moment she couldn’t speak, and simply nodded before finally managing to say, “Yes. Oh yes.” 

He was smiling as he slid the ring on her finger. A simple ring, a single creamy pearl, set in a gold band, all he could afford, but the pearl had reminded him of her skin and he had thought the delicacy of it would suit her. Looking at it on her hand, he knew he had been right.

“It’s beautiful.” She said.

He lifted her hand to his lips. “Not nearly as beautiful the one who wears it. I would have liked something more grand but…”

“No, it’s perfect.” She insisted. She slid her arms around his neck, and leaned forward and kissed her gently, before straightening up, still holding her and moved to sit in one of the chairs, settling her on his lap.

She leaned against his shoulder looking at the ring. “I have a confession of sorts.” She said.

“A confession?”

“I thought Elthina wouldn’t allow this. That she wouldn’t allow me to become a sister. I’m not really Chantry material, you know. I’m actually a little relieved that I’ll have more time to get used to the idea. To learn more about it.” She turned to look up at him. “Will you help me?”

“Learn about the Chantry you mean? Of course.”

‘Yes, that, but with the rest of it as well. Teach me to cope and to accept it. I can’t imagine I won’t get frustrated at times and lose patience and that some of the vows will give me trouble. Will you help me with that? You had trouble yourself at first. I want to be able to be honest about it when it’s difficult, and not just pretend everything’s all right. I want this marriage more than anything, I want it to be a success, but know it won’t be easy and I think it’s important to be honest about it, don’t you think?” 

He could only nod. “Yes. Honesty is very important.” 

More true than anything else he’d said since he’d arrived. 

_Do you hear yourself?_ Some small still sane part of him asked. _Do you see the knots you’ve tied yourself in? The falsehoods you’re excusing away?_

 _Yes_ , he answered. _Yes, and I don’t care. I will have her, marry her, be with her always and I will keep Elthina safe as well, and nothing will prevent it._

Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	12. Telling the Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Anabel let their friends know of their plans for a chaste marriage. Their friends are less enthusiastic then they had hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter seems to have upset quite a few people. I'd just like to point out:
> 
> 1) Sebastian is human.  
> 2) Sebastian is scared.  
> 3) Sebastian is very muddled.  
> 4) The majority of us have done stupid things because of being human and being scared and being muddled.
> 
> Sebastian is no different. He will have to deal with the consequences of his mistakes. Anabel will be angry when she finds out. They will work out their differences.

There was dead silence after Anabel told her friends of her forthcoming nuptials. Then Anders stood up so suddenly and violently that his chair fell backwards to the floor. He jerked open the door to Varric’s suite slamming it against the wall. They heard him storming down the stairs.

“Wonderful.” Muttered Anabel. It was the evening after Sebastian had proposed. They’d sent word to all her gang to meet them at the Hanged Man. 

She and Sebastian had spent the whole day together. He’d arrived in time to join her for breakfast in the garden, in spite of the fact it had been near midnight when he’d left her house the night before, and he’d brought her flowers, a bouquet of roses, the peachy pink ones that Sam in the Hightown market had named “the Champion’s rose”, handing them to her as he bent to place a soft kiss on her cheek.

She’d breathed in the sweet fragrance and smiled up at him. “Is this a preview of what married life is going to be like?” She’d inquired. 

He’d looked puzzled.

“Are you going to keep being this nice to me?” She’d asked. “I mean you were always nice to me, but you’ve been particularly attentive since I said I’d marry you.”

An expression she couldn’t quite read had passed over his face, so quickly that she wasn’t certain if she’d imagined it or not. He was suddenly crouching in front of her, cupping her face in his hands, pressing a gentle kiss to her mouth.

“Yes.” He’d told her. “You are the most precious thing in my life, and I am going to devote myself to making certain that you know it.” 

She’d tilted her head to the side, pretending to give his declaration some thought. “I’m surprisingly okay with that.” She’d said after a moment, flashing her dimple at him.

He couldn’t help laughing, or sweeping her up into his arms, spinning her around, holding her so tight that she let out a small squeal. He’d buried his face in her neck, fighting back his almost crippling guilt. He’d lain awake most of the night, bitterly regretting the lies he’d let her believe, cursing himself for deceiving her, but it was too late to change them, too late to take them back. He was certain to lose her if he did and that couldn’t happen.

All he could do was spend the rest of his life making it up to her, but no matter what he did, it wouldn’t be enough. It wouldn’t ever be enough. He’d held her tighter still.

“Sebastian, I can’t breathe.” She’d said, laughing, though she scarcely had breath to do so.

He’d instantly loosened his hold on her, but hadn’t put her down. Instead he’d carried her over to one of the garden chairs and sat down, keeping her on his lap and in his arms.

She’d snuggled up against him. She’d been worried that agreeing to a chaste marriage would mean no touching, no physical contact, nothing at all, but if anything it the opposite seemed to be true: Sebastian seemed to be unable to stop touching her. Granted it wasn’t the blatantly sexual caresses that they’d shared more recently. These touches were different. It was almost as if he was seeking proof that she was still there, still near. Still his.

She’d tried to reassure him. “I’m not going anywhere you know. I won’t change my mind. You’re stuck with me now, Sebastian Vael.”

He couldn’t help pulling her closer still. “Yes.” But they weren’t married yet. If she found out what he’d done they might never be. “Nothing will come between us. Nothing.” Not even his own lies and stupidity. She couldn’t know.

He’d sounded so desperate that she’d pulled back to look at him, and reached up a hand to stroke the side of his face. 

He’d rested his forehead against hers, forcing himself to be calm. “You mean the world to me, Anabel. I want us to be married as soon as possible. Next month, Kingsway, as we’d planned.” 

“Yes.” She’d agreed. Before he or Elthina could change their minds and decide she really wasn’t chantry material after all. “As soon as possible.” 

So they’d sent a message to the Chantry to set up a meeting that very day with Sister Colinda, who handled such matters, and to her friends so they could be told, and then Sebastian had announced he wanted to stop and speak to Gamlen before they went to the Hanged Man. She’d made a face and teased him for being so old fashioned, but she’d been smiling when he’d left her at the tavern, with strict instructions not to say anything until he’d joined her.

It was hardly her fault that Isabela had noticed the ring. 

She thought she’d been remarkably nonchalant explaining about the whole chaste marriage thing. Anders’ reaction to the news hadn’t been entirely unexpected, though the vehemence of it had surprised her.

She turned back to the rest of her friends, none of whom had uttered a word yet. They were all staring at her, seemingly stunned by the announcement. She couldn’t help laughing. “Oh come on. Isn’t anyone going to say anything?”

“I’m confused.” Said Isabela with an almost suspicious frown. “What’s a ‘chaste’ marriage?”

Aveline let out a snort. “Trust you to be confused by the concept of chaste.”

“It means that Sebastian and I get married, I join him as a sister in the Chantry. We’re married. We just don’t…you know.” She could feel herself blushing.

“Don’t what?” Said Merrill, looking back and forth between Isabela and Hawke, as if one of them had forgotten the punch line of the joke.

“They don’t have sex, sweet thing.” Isabela was actually scowling now.

Merrill gave a small puzzled laugh. “Don’t be silly, Isabela. Even I know you can’t be married and not have sex. Can you? How could you have children then? Why even get married?” She looked back and forth between the others, seeking an answer.

“A fine question.” Muttered Aveline. She rubbed her forehead. “Look, Hawke. Are you sure about this?”

Was she sure about a chaste marriage and all it entailed? Holy Maker, no. Was she sure about wanting to spend the rest of her life with Sebastian, whatever she had to do to achieve it? Yes. Unquestioningly, yes. “I love him Aveline.” She finally said. “When you love someone you want to be with them, any way you can.” 

Aveline’s stern expression softened, though the worry remained. “I’m just having trouble seeing you as a sister in the Chantry. Oh I know you believe and all, but you as a Sister, living in the Chantry? No.” She shook her head.

“We won’t be living in the Chantry.” Anabel admitted. “We’ll be living in my house at the start.” 

Varric’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Okay, now I’m confused.”

Anabel sighed. “The Grand Cleric thought that given the way things are in Kirkwall right now it would be unwise if the Champion seemed to favor one side over another. If people knew I’d joined the Chantry it would do just that. So we’ll live at my house. As far as anyone will know it’s just a normal everyday marriage. The chaste part will stay secret for now. And that means secret.” She said giving Varric and Isabela a particularly pointed look. “As in don’t tell anyone anything about it, that information doesn’t leave this room, secret.”

Varric gave a short laugh. “Don’t worry; no one would believe this one even if I did tell them.” He sat back in his chair seeming to consider what she’d said. “So you take vows as a sister.”

“Well not right away. But later when things have quieted down here….”

Varric snorted. “Yeah, right. And you marry Choir Boy.”

She couldn’t help smiling at the thought. “Yes.”

“And he moves into your Hightown mansion.”

“Into Mother’s old room.” She clarified. ”Yes.” 

“And the two of you live together. In that big house. All alone. Chastely. The two of you, who’ve been making googly eyes at each other since the first time you saw each other, and who, the last time you went on an overnight on the Wounded Coast, ended up rolling around half naked in the sand with his hands down your pants.”

Anabel’s cheeks turned bright red and she whirled around. “Isabela!”

Isabela shrugged. “Kitten, it was just too delicious. All that tension and passion just aching to burst out. I had to tell someone.”

Anabel scowled at her. “And you chose Varric? Really? The town crier wasn’t around?”

Isabela gave her a mischievous smirk. “Actually I only told Bianca. It’s not my fault she can’t keep a secret.” 

“Hey.” Said Varric. “Keep Bianca out of this.”

“But if you were rolling around in the sand and Sebastian had his hand down your pants, doesn’t that make it unchaste? Or is it only just the actual sexing you can’t do if you’re chaste?” Merrill seemed even more confused before.

“We weren’t rolling around in the sand with his hands down my pants!” Anabel shouted, more loudly than she’d intended.

Isabela just arched an eyebrow and even Fenris let out a small cough.

She could feel her cheeks burning now. “All right, maybe we were, but we’ve gotten over it, we’ve moved past it, and now we’re getting married, it will be chaste and the lot of you can just sod off.” She threw herself into the nearest chair fighting back the urge to cry. Apparently it was obvious to everyone that she didn’t know what the Void she was doing agreeing to this. All she knew was that she needed Sebastian, needed him by her, that without him there, her chaotic, precarious world would fall apart. She would take any opportunity, any chance to tie him to her. Even this one. She rubbed her hand over her eyes. Sweet Andraste it sounded awful when you put it like that. When Sebastian was next to her it made sense, or at least didn’t seem quite so ludicrous and self-serving. Hearing her friends voice their own doubts though….

Someone moved to stand beside her chair and she looked up to find Fenris standing there, a solemn expression on his face. He was the only one who hadn’t voiced an opinion yet. She glared at him defiantly waiting to hear what new doubt he would raise.

But instead he simply held out his hand. “May I be the first to offer my congratulations? I believe you and Sebastian will be very happy together.”

Anabel looked at his hand and then, ignoring it, stood and flung her arms around his neck. “Thank you.” She went up on tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, you know.”

He hesitated a moment and then his arms tightened around her, just briefly, before he stepped back and cleared his throat. “We should move on.”

She laughed and released him and when she turned, Varric was standing there. “The broody elf has me beat on manners, Hawke. I hope you and Choir Boy will be very happy.”

She bent forward and hugged him as well. “Thanks, Varric.”

“A wedding between the Champion of Kirkwall and the rightful Prince of Starkhaven. That’s going to be a security nightmare. Congratulations, Hawke. I don’t begin to understand it, but it’s obviously what you want. And he’s a good man. You could have done worse.” It could have been the Abomination or the Pirate Queen, she thought. “You could have done much worse.”

“When do we get to congratulate the groom?” Varric asked.

“He should be here soon.” Said Anabel, wondering what could possibly be taking Sebastian so long. 

 

Sebastian left Gamlen’s house, more determined than ever to devote himself, his life to ensuring Anabel’s happiness, to making certain she knew how loved and cherished she was.

Gamlen had scoffed when Sebastian had asked him for permission to wed his niece, but he suspected the man had appreciated being treated as the head of the family. 

“You don’t need my permission, man. It’s not like that girl would listen to me. She doesn’t listen to anyone.”

Sebastian’s lips had curved into a smile. “That is true. I ask for your approval then.”

Gamlen looked at him as if he weren’t quite sane, but nodded. “Maker yes, I approve. It took you long enough.” He’d hesitated before adding, “You take care of her, you hear? She’s the best of us, you know. The best of our family.”

“She’s an amazing woman.” Sebastian agreed with a smile.

Gamlen frowned. “That’s why she needs taking care of. She’s vulnerable. She only ever sees the good in people, even in a pathetic old drunk like me. She just refuses see the bad – won’t even believe it’s there. It's going to bite her in the ass one day. She needs someone decent like you to look out for her. To keep her safe from the people who’d take advantage of that trust.”

Sebastian had swallowed hard before reassuring him. “I promise you I will.” 

Walking away from Gamlen’s house he felt like the basest of hypocrites.

His path was suddenly blocked and he looked up to see Anders standing in front of him, positively seething with anger.

“You selfish bastard.” Anders snarled through gritted teeth.

So apparently Anabel hadn’t waited to share their news.

For once Sebastian didn’t bother to conceal his dislike of the mage. “You call me selfish?” He asked. “Your actions constantly put Anabel into danger. You hide behind her reputation, constantly testing what Meredith would overlook even in the Champion of Kirkwall. You drag her into dealings with your Mage Underground with no thought for her safety and wellbeing. You use her for your own selfish ends, knowing she’ll never turn you down if you ask for her aid.”

“At least I wasn’t so selfish that I couldn’t let her go.” Anders said his voice low and filled with all the loathing he felt for Sebastian.

Sebastian couldn’t prevent a small flinch at his words. That Anders had acted nobly in not pursuing a relationship with Anabel had honestly never occurred to him.

“She deserves more than being kept under glass in the Chantry. How long do you think she’ll last like that?” Anders demanded.

Sebastian’s mouth formed a thin line. “She seems to have no objections.” He told the mage.

Anders let out a humorless laugh. “She’s so afraid of losing you she would agree to anything. And you’ve taken full advantage of that, haven’t you? You self-righteous chantry prig. You can’t stand the idea of someone else loving her the way you can’t or won’t, so you take even that possibility away from her. A chaste marriage. Hawke a sister in the Chantry. How did you even get the Grand Cleric to agree to that?” 

Something flickered across Sebastian’s face, for just a second, but Anders knew that look all too well. Shame. And guilt.

“You’re hiding something.” Anders said in astonishment. There were many things he disliked intensely about Sebastian Vael, but he’d always thought him to be truthful at least, truthful in that annoyingly effortlessly superior way that seemed to come so naturally to the prince. “You son of a bitch. What are you keeping from her?”

Sebastian’s own temper flared. “Do not pass your deceitful behavior on to me, maleficar. How many things are you keeping from Anabel?”

Like Anabel’s, Anders’ fair skin couldn’t hide the guilty flush that stained his cheeks.

The two men glared at each other all pretense of civility gone. People were beginning to stare as they walked by the two.

“You’re hiding something.” Anders repeated, pointing an accusing finger at him. He was convinced of it now. He turned abruptly and stalked away.

Sebastian stood there a moment his hands in fists at his side. 

No one knew about the deal he and Elthina had struck. There was no way Anders could find out anything. Anabel would never, never know of his deceit. He would make her his wife, and keep her and Elthina close and safe. No one, not the least that abomination, was going to prevent it. He took several deep breaths and let his fists slowly unclench. When he had calmed himself sufficiently he continued on to the Hanged Man to meet his future bride.

He could hear them all talking as he neared the door to Varric’s suite.

“I’m going to have to hire extra guards.” He heard Aveline say.

“Just make sure you hire enough guards to cover you as well." Anabel replied. "You’re going to be a bridesmaid.” 

Sebastian couldn’t help smiling at the excitement and sheer happiness in her voice. He would spend his life making sure she didn't regret her choice.

“Hawke I don’t think...” Aveline sounded absolutely appalled.

“Not taking no for an answer, Guard Captain.” Anabel said, putting careful emphasis on the title. “I need you Aveline. Who else will make sure Isabela keeps her bridesmaid’s dress on? And who’s going to make sure Merrill doesn’t get lost walking up the aisle?” 

Merrill squealed. “I get to be a bridesmaid too?”

“Of course. And Varric is going to give me away. If Bianca says it’s okay, of course.” She turned a questioning glance to the dwarf.

Varric blinked a couple of times and cleared his throat before speaking. “Bianca says it’s fine. And I’d be honored.”

“What about Fenris? Will he be a bridesmaid too?” Piped up Merrill.

Fenris scowled at her. “Cannot you not ever think before you speak?”

“Fenris will stand with me, as my best man.” Sebastian said from the doorway. He crossed to stand in front of the elf. “If you are willing of course.”

For the second time that afternoon Fenris seemed uncertain how to respond. He looked carefully into Sebastian’s face. “You are certain that this is what you wish?” He asked cautiously.

Sebastian gave him an easy smile. “Most certain. I value your friendship Fenris, and would be honored if you would be by my side when I wed the woman I love.”

Fenris couldn’t keep from smiling broadly. “I am willing. And might I offer my congratulations.”

Sebastian put out his hand and Fenris clasped it eagerly. 

“Good. That’s settled then.” Sebastian turned back to Anabel. “We should get going if we’re to make our appointment with Sister Colinda.” Anabel smiled happily, and after saying their farewells, the two of them departed. 

There was a brief moment of silence. Then Varric pulled out a clean sheet of paper. “Bets?”

“Three weeks.” Said Isabela. “Three weeks before he’s got her bent over a basin hammering her like a nail.”

“Six months” Said Aveline, with a tired sigh. “They’re both stubborn as mules.” 

 

 

They finished their meeting with Sister Colinda rather later than Anabel had expected they would. Her head was in a whirl at all the details that she apparently needed to consider for “a wedding of this importance and magnitude” as the sister had put it. Luckily Sebastian seemed completely unfazed by the prospect, and more than ready to help with the planning. Halfway through, one of the novices had arrived with a note from Elthina, asking that they stop by and see her so she could offer her congratulations to them both before they left.

Sebastian glanced sideways at Anabel as they walked towards Elthina’s chambers and lifted the hand he was holding to his lips. “Are you all right?” He asked.

She took a deep breath and let it out. “A bit overwhelmed. I hadn’t realized quite what a spectacle our wedding would be.” In spite of her nerves, she couldn’t help smiling, saying the words.

“Given your title I’m not entirely surprised. After Meredith and Elthina you’re the most important person in the city.”

She burst out laughing and then stopped when she saw his face. “You’re serious?”

He just smiled at her.

She gave a small shudder. “Well, that’s frightening.” As they continued on their way, she seemed lost in thought. When they reached Elthina’s door she suddenly stopped, putting her hand on his arm so he stopped as well. “I’ve just had an idea. It’s unusual, but I think it’s a good one.” She worried her lip between her teeth for a moment. “I want to invite the mages to the wedding.”

He couldn’t help a small frown.

“Hear me out.” She said, before he could speak. “We’ll be inviting the nobility, and the senior clerics from the Chantry. It seems right to invite Orsino and the senior enchanters as well. There’s precedent for it – twenty-five years ago the mages always used to be invited for parties and things. Even now Orsino occasionally turns up for things. It would help. It would show… others in the city that mages aren’t prisoners. That things are going to change.”

Her logic was sound but he didn’t think the Knight Commander would be quite as enthusiastic. “Meredith wouldn’t allow it, Anabel. Not even at the request of the Champion of Kirkwall.”

“What if the request came from the Champion and the Grand Cleric?” She said with a knowing smile.

He couldn’t help laughing. “You’re right. That one she might have to allow.” He smiled down at her, shaking his head. “Hawke diplomacy.” Little had he known when he coined the phrase how apropos it would turn out to be.

She smiled back at him. “Hawke diplomacy.” She agreed.

The visit with Elthina went well. The Grand Cleric had offered them sincere congratulations and the one time it had seemed as if Elthina might mention the offer she had made, Sebastian had introduced Anabel’s idea of inviting the mages to the wedding and Elthina had been so intrigued by it that the rest of their time with her was spent on that topic. He couldn’t help being relieved when it was time for them to depart.

The feeling was short-lived though, when Anabel turned to him and asked if she could have a moment alone with Elthina. 

Much as he would have liked to refuse, he had no reason to. He left the room going into the antechamber, and closing the door behind him. Sister Alma had long since retired for the evening, and he stayed by the door blatantly eavesdropping.

Anabel was speaking. “I know I’m not supposed to talk about or say anything about the whole thing, and after I say my piece I promise I won’t ever again.”

Sebastian heart seemed to lodge in his throat.

“I just wanted to thank you for giving me this chance. I won’t waste it. I love Sebastian. I want this marriage to work. You’ve given me an opportunity that most in your position wouldn’t. So, thank you.”

It was just vague enough that Elthina might not realize exactly what Anabel was referring to. He stood there, actually holding his breath, waiting for Elthina’s response.

“I know you love him, child. And he loves you. Whatever difficulties you encounter living together, remember that. And good luck. He’s a good man. Well worth the trouble. Don’t waste this chance.” She cautioned. “I believe that you’ll succeed.”

Anabel was talking about being a Chantry sister. Elthina, somewhat shockingly, seemed to be rooting for him to fail at keeping his promise to be chaste. Neither of them had realized they were talking about two entirely different things. 

He moved away from the door, sinking into one of the chairs. To thank the Maker that his lies hadn’t been revealed seemed almost blasphemous. For a moment he wished they had, that he wouldn’t have to begin his life with Anabel with this lie between them. He almost was tempted to go in there and reveal the false assumptions they had both made.

Almost. But not quite. 

Cursing himself for both a coward and a liar, he got to his feet as the door opened and the two women came out, both smiling when they saw him standing there.

He forced an answering smile onto his own face.

He would make it up to both of them, somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff are on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	13. A Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Anabel are married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to championspectre, missmeggo, and lunardaisyart for their help with this chapter in particular the wedding service. It would have taken much longer to post without their help.

It wasn’t all that common for the Champion of Kirkwall to attend the Sunday service at the Chantry, so when she strolled casually in on the arm of Sebastian Vael there were more than a few hushed whispers of speculation as to why she would turn up now, and turn up dressed as befitted a noblewoman for once, in an elegant blue linen dress, with her hair neatly styled in an elaborately braided chignon. The two of them took seats in the front row as if there were nothing odd about it at all. The whispers subsided and the service proceeded as it did every Sunday.

However, just before the final blessing, when it was time for the announcements, the buzz of speculation began anew as the junior cleric who had been assisting that day remained seated, and the Grand Cleric herself rose and crossed to the lectern. Eyes went from the Elthina to the Champion and her prince, and back again. Could it be? Was it finally? 

Elthina looked down on the crowd, her kindly face beaming with happiness. "I hereby publish the banns of marriage between Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven and Kirkwall, and Anabel Hawke, Champion of this City. The marriage is planned for the first day of Harvestmere. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, you are to declare it." 

The end of the announcement could scarcely be heard over the cheers and applause that had erupted.

Anabel looked over at Sebastian, laughing at the reaction. He’d taken her hand when Elthina had moved to the lectern, and he lifted it now to press a kiss to it. A myriad of emotions showed on his face: pride, satisfaction, possessiveness and happiness, more than anything happiness, that it was finally official. 

“Yours.” She said softly.

“Yes.” He said, his eyes so intense they almost seemed to burn into her. “Mine. Always.”

 

Things proceeded very quickly after that. They’d been forced to move the date to Harvestmere when Sister Colinda had insisted there was no possible way for such an event to be put together in less than a month. Though she’d been disappointed at first, Anabel had quickly seen the wisdom behind it. She’d thought planning Aveline’s wedding had given her some idea of what was involved, but this wedding was on an entirely different scale. 

With much reluctance, the Knight Commander had agreed to allow Orsino and the senior enchanters to attend the wedding, but only after she’d been summoned to the Chantry by the Grand Cleric and ordered to do so. It was the first time Sebastian had ever seen Elthina use her authority to command Meredith and Meredith had not been pleased, not at all, but there was little she could do about it. As she had pointed out to Anabel all those months ago, she was no fool, and she knew a losing battle when she encountered one. Anabel Hawke was the Champion of the City, and for right now at least, she could do no wrong. She’d slain the Arishok, thwarted an invasion and nearly died because of it, and now she was giving Kirkwall a fairy tale wedding to celebrate. The Knight Commander knew she couldn’t compete with that. If Meredith hadn’t given in and Elthina and the Champion had combined forces to openly challenge her authority it would have weakened her position considerably. She couldn’t afford that. She had taken power on the excuse that a vacuum existed and someone needed to fill it. Sebastian strongly suspected her acquiescence on the mages had less to do with Elthina’s command and more to do with preventing Anabel from being seen as a true contender for the position of Viscount. It suited Meredith’s purpose far more right now to have Anabel Hawke appear a fragile and delicate princess in a children’s tale rather than someone actually capable of ruling Kirkwall.

The news that the mages would be attending had raised a few eyebrows, but there had been far more reminiscing about the old days, when mages appearing at social events was the norm rather than the exception.

“You have to know that Meredith is only doing this under duress.” Sebastian pointed out to Anabel. 

“Of course.” Anabel had agreed. “But if socializing with the mages convinces even a handful that things don’t have to be the way they have been the last few years, if we can get pressure coming from those with influence in Kirkwall, rather than from the threats of renegade blood mages who do more to harm the cause of mages than aid it, then I’ll be well satisfied.”

She’d been scowling when she’d mentioned the blood mages and he hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. They were all angry at these Resolutionists and blood mages, these maleficar who seemed so intent on violence.

It wasn’t until a fortnight after he’d proposed, when the wedding was still more than a three weeks away, that Sebastian accidentally discovered that Anabel had been sneaking out after he’d left her in the evenings to prowl the streets with Aveline and Fenris and various members of the guard, taking out the remnants of old gangs, and investigating rumors of new ones, particularly those that spoke of blood mages and innocents enthralled.

He’d found himself unexpectedly free from his obligations one morning, and decided to surprise her, and surprise her he did, with Anders healing a pair of knife wounds to her back, not unlike those she’d had the first time he’d met the man, and just like that first time, neither of them saw him in the doorway at first.

“This is the second time in a week, Hawke.” Anders was saying as he dabbed at the wounds with a cloth. Either pay more attention to the people attacking you, or…” His voice trailed off.

“Or?” She prompted and then drew her breath in sharply.

“Sorry.” Anders muttered. “That one’s a deep one.”

“It’s okay.” She murmured. “Or what?” She asked again after a moment.

“Or I’m going to start thinking that you’re looking for a way out of this ridiculous wedding.”

Sebastian had been about to make his presence known, but at those words he actually stepped back around the door jamb, and listened instead. 

“Anders….” Anabel said wearily.

“Sorry. I did say I wouldn’t bring it up again, didn’t I? Hold still.” There was a flare of gentle blue light from the room. “There. Better?” She didn’t answer and Anders prompted, “Hawke?”

“Are you truly not going to come to the wedding?” She asked him in a small voice.

Anders didn’t answer for a moment. “I can’t.” He finally said. “I think you’re making a mistake. A big one. I can’t sit there and watch you do it. I don’t even know how he could ask it of you.”

“He wants Elthina to be safe. It’s the only way he can stay with her.”

“Fine, does he have to drag you along with him?”

There was a moment’s hesitation and Anabel said softly. “It’s the only way I can stay with him.” 

“Do you even realize what he’s asking you to give up?” Anders had raised his voice. 

“Yes.” Her voice was calm.

“How can you excuse it?”

“What would you give up if it would save Karl?” She asked him. “What would I give up to save Da or Bethany or Leandra?” Her voice faltered and Sebastian felt his own throat tighten when he heard it. “He’s giving it up as well.” She said, a little more harshly. “At least this way we can still spend our lives together. At least I, we, can have that much.”

“I don’t trust him.” Anders said finally.

“Then trust me.” She said simply. “Please come. It doesn’t seem right that you won’t be there.”

“I can’t.”

The bastard. He knew how much his being there meant to her. Sebastian stepped into the room and they both looked up. 

Anders’ face went carefully blank. Anabel’s eyes widened and she glanced over at the desk where the rags and potions were still out, as if wondering if she could keep him from knowing about her injury.

He must have looked as aggravated as he felt because when she saw his expression she lifted her chin defiantly. 

Sebastian just stared at her for a moment. “Are you all right?” He asked carefully, trying not to sound as angry as he was.

“I’m fine. Anders fixed me.” She said meeting his gaze unflinchingly.

Sebastian turned to Anders. “Thank you.” 

The look in the Prince’s eyes disavowed the sentiment, and Anders didn’t bother to acknowledge the thanks. “You might want to try and keep your intended home at night if you want her in one piece for this wedding.” He advised. “I’d offer a few tips on how, but I’ve heard you aren’t interested in that sort of thing. You’ll have to come up with something on your own. They say chess is a fun game.”

Sebastian’s eyes flared with anger but he didn’t say anything.

Anders smirked and left, heading towards the basement entrance, as if to taunt him with the fact he had a key to the house and came and went as he pleased. 

Sebastian didn’t move from the doorway. 

“Say something.” Anabel told him at last.

“How often have you been going out nights?” He asked finally.

“A few weeks.” She said with a small shrug. “Since Sister Nightingale was here.” 

“Every night after I leave?” He tried to keep his voice calm.

She shrugged again. “Most nights. Never by myself.”

“And how many times have you been injured?”

She hesitated. “Seriously injured or just little things?”

He cursed. “Anabel Hawke…” He started to say, but she interrupted him.

“We took out a group of blood mages that had been running around Kirkwall. Turns out they were being controlled by a desire demon. 'The Followers of She', they called themselves and their hideout was right here in Hightown. They’re gone now. That wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t gone after them.”

He walked behind her, blanching slightly when he saw the bloodstains and jagged tears in her shirt. Reaching out a hand he gently tugged the neckline until the whole of her upper back was revealed. 

Her skin was as flawless as ever. There wasn’t even a mark there now. Say what you would about Anders, he was by far the most talented healer Sebastian had ever encountered. He trailed his fingers over her bare skin and she shivered and before he could stop himself he’d bent forward and pressed a kiss there. She drew her breath in sharply.

 _Maker’s breath, what was he doing?_ He swiftly pulled the shirt back up and she quickly tied the front closed.

She turned to face him placing a small hand on his chest. “I want Elthina safe as much as you do.” She reminded him. “You can’t expect me to just sit here if there’s something I can do about it.” 

She looked so earnest that he couldn’t help a smile as he brushed a curl away from her face. “I want you safe as well.” He reminded her.

She grinned, flashing him her dimple, knowing she’d been forgiven. “Oh, you know me. I’m indestructible.“

He couldn’t help a small snort, thinking of those nights at her bedside when they thought she might not survive the wound the Arishok had given her. “Thus far. It doesn’t mean you should keep putting it to the test.” He shook his head. “I had wondered why you seemed so exhausted.” He’d thought in fact she’d been having trouble sleeping because she was having second thoughts about marrying him. That it was something else entirely was some relief at least, he thought as he pulled her close and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

She let herself rest against him. “We caught this bunch. I haven’t heard or felt anything else.” Andraste only knew whether that was because the Resolutionists had truly left Kirkwall, or whether they were just that well hidden. “I think I can safely step back for a bit and let Aveline and the guard handle anything else, at least until after the wedding. It has been a bit exhausting, stalking blood mages at night and planning a wedding during the day.” 

“I can imagine.” He said dryly. “Why didn’t you ask me to come with you?”

“I wanted it to be the guard and the Champion, not the Chantry doing it. It was a response to lawlessness not magic.” She snuggled closer, breathing in the scent of him. “Anders won’t come to the wedding.” She said.

After a moment’s hesitation he stroked her hair. “Yes. I heard.” 

She sighed. “I feel like I should be angry with him, but it just makes me sad.”

Instead of saying what he felt, which was relief that the man wouldn’t be there, he said the right thing. “Perhaps he’ll change his mind.”

She gave a small snort. “He may be the only person in Kirkwall who’s more stubborn than I am. He won’t change his mind.”

 

In the end it was Varric who took care of it, showing up at the clinic one afternoon carrying a bundle which he plopped unceremoniously down on Anders’ desk.

Anders frowned. “What’s that?”

“Clothes for you to wear to Hawke’s wedding.” 

Anders pushed it away. “I’m not going.”

“How much has she done for you? How much happiness has she brought you just by being your friend? And how much has she asked in return?”

“She’s making a mistake. I’m not going to condone it.” Anders said stubbornly.

Varric just rolled his eyes. “Because she’s never overlooked any mistakes you’ve made.”

Anders scowled but didn’t answer.

After a moment Varric spoke again. “Look Blondie, I don’t begin to understand why she’s doing this, but she’s doing it. She’s marrying him. Sulking down here in Darktown isn’t going to change it, but it’s going to hurt Hawke, and your friendship. Or maybe not. She seems to forgive almost anything in people she loves. But it’s your choice if you want to risk it. There are the clothes. I’m not giving you the excuse that you don’t have anything to wear.”

He turned to leave, but stopped at the door. “Did she tell you? She managed to get Meredith to agree to Orsino and the senior enchanters attending the wedding.”

Anders looked up, his face showing his surprise.

“Yeah, I kind of figured she hadn’t.” Said Varric, and left. 

 

 

As happy as Anabel seemed in the days leading up to the wedding, as much as she seemed to be having no regrets about the choice she had made, Sebastian still worried that she would change her mind even as he waited in the Chancel for her to arrive at the Chantry the morning of the wedding.

He knew full well just how selfish he was being. He knew the enormity of what he was asking of her, what he was asking her to give up. After overhearing her conversation with Anders he knew she knew it as well. What if she decided it was too much? What if she decided she couldn’t do it?

He stood there at the railing, facing Elthina, facing away from the Nave and the doors, as was the tradition. He was nervous, anxious, distracted, all those things a groom was supposed to be, and already more than one person had teased him about it and tried to reassure him, telling him all grooms were nervous at the prospect of losing their freedom. He’d smiled politely knowing they wouldn’t understand if he told them it was just the opposite. 

Surely she should have been here by now.

And then he heard the processional music begin, and all those in attendance rising to their feet, and he offered a silent prayer of thanks to Andraste. Anabel was here.

He had to fight the desire to turn around and look down at her, just to be certain. Fenris seemed to realize it, for he shifted his position just enough that he could look into the Nave. A proud smile came to his face and he looked over at Sebastian. “You are a very lucky man, my friend.”

When Sebastian caught his first glimpse of her coming up the stairs on Varric’s arm, he couldn’t help but agree.

He’d never seen anyone, anything so beautiful in his life. Wearing the gold and white of Starkhaven she seemed almost ethereal – a benevolent Fade spirit who’d somehow crossed over to this realm. Joy or Hope, he thought and then she lifted her eyes and looked at him, and he changed his mind. 

Love. Unwavering, unhesitating. Undoubting.

Anabel Hawke loved him, loved him enough to pledge herself to him for the rest of her life, no matter what the circumstances. And he loved her. That was what mattered. That was what was important.

As they had practiced in rehearsal, she paused by her bridesmaids, giving her bouquet to Merrill to hold during the ceremony, and then Varric led her to Sebastian and placed her hands in his.

Her fingers were a cool, her hands just a little damp and he realized in spite of her calm exterior she was nervous. He squeezed her hand gently and she smiled at him and squeezed back, as the Grand Cleric moved so they stood on either side of her.

Elthina looked out at the crowded and quoted.

_“And Eileen spoke unto the masses;_  
 _My hearth is yours, my bread is yours, my life is yours._  
 _For all who walk in the sight of the Maker are one.”_

"We have come here today to witness as Anabel and Sebastian make their vows and pledge themselves to each other and to join with them as they ask the blessings of the Maker and of his Bride Andraste on their union.” 

She smiled benevolently at the two of them. “Do you have the rings?”

Anabel turned to Aveline (who had insisted on holding the rings as Merrill would no doubt lose them and Isabela no doubt exchange them for some whiskey at the earliest opportunity), and Sebastian turned to Fenris.

When they had the rings in hand, Elthina turned to Sebastian and said. “Sebastian, I have not the right to bind you to Anabel, only you have that right. If it be your wish, say so at this time and place your ring in her hand.”

Sebastian looked down at Anabel. He had never wanted anything more in his life. “It is my wish.” He said simply. He placed the plain gold band he had chosen in the palm of her hand.

Elthina turned to Anabel. “Anabel, if it be your wish for Sebastian to be bound to you, then place the ring on his finger.” 

Anabel’s hands trembled just a little as she slid the ring onto Sebastian’s finger but she looked up at him with a smile so radiant that it took his breath away. 

Elthina smiled and told Sebastian, “Sebastian you may speak your vows.”

He spoke the words, not taking his eyes from Anabel’s face. “I, Sebastian Lachlan Vael, in the name of the Maker and his bride Andraste, by the life that courses through my blood, and the love that lives in my heart, take you, Anabel Esme Hawke, to my hand, my heart, and my spirit, to be my chosen one. I promise to love you wholly and completely, without restraint, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in this life and beyond.” He had never spoken words that were more true.

Elthina turned to Anabel. “Anabel, I have not the right to bind you to Sebastian, only you have this right. If it be your wish, say so at this time and place your ring in his hand.”

Hearing him speak his vows, and looking at the love shining out of his eyes, any worries Anabel had had seemed unimportant. They would handle them together, overcome them together. She wanted this more than anything, wanted to be by his side for the rest of her days. 

“It is my wish.” She said, and there was no hint of doubt in her voice. She put ring in his hand, and looked up at him. 

Elthina repeated the instructions she’d given Anabel. “Sebastian, if it be your wish for Anabel to be bound to you, place the ring on her finger.”

He picked up the ring that he’d chosen for her, a slender gold band with a delicate floral tracing, and slipped it onto her finger. It looked perfect, and he couldn’t help lifting her hand to his lips and placing a kiss there. 

When he had lowered it, Elthina continued. “Anabel, you may speak your vows.” 

Anabel’s voice started out soft but grew stronger as she continued. She kept her eyes fixed on his. “I, Anabel Esme Hawke, in the name of the Maker and his bride Andraste, by the life that courses through my blood, and the love that lives in my heart, take you, Sebastian Lachlan Vael, to my hand, my heart, and my spirit, to be my chosen one. I promise to love you, wholly and completely, without restraint, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in this life and beyond.”

They turned together to look at Elthina. 

“Join your hands.” She commanded.

They did so, as they’d been shown, crossing one wrist over the other and clasping their hands together.

Elthina draped the scarlet ribbon over their joined hands. 

“Will you honor and respect one another, and seek to never break that honor?”

“We will.” They answered.

She took one end of the ribbon and wound it around their hands. 

“Will you share each other’s pain and seek to ease it?” She asked.

“We will.” They replied.

Elthina took the other end of the ribbon and wrapped in a mirror fashion. 

“Will you share the burdens of each so that your spirits may grow in this union?” 

“We will.” They said in unison.

Elthina tied the two ends loosely together. “Will you share each other’s laughter, looking always for the brightness in life and the best in each other?“

Sebastian smiled as the question was asked. The brightness in life. How could he see anything else when Anabel was beside him? “We will.” They said together.

Elthina tied the final knot, and clasped their joined hands between hers and recited the Blessing of Hands:

_Blessed are these hands that will love and cherish each other._  
 _Blessed are these hands that will wipe tears of happiness and sorrow from each other’s eyes._  
 _Blessed are these hands that are strong, yet will be gentle and soothing when needed._  
 _Blessed are these hands for they hold the hands of your friend, the hands that will speak when there are no words to be said._

When she had finished she looked from one to the other, smiling happily. “Anabel and Sebastian, as your hands are bound together now, so your lives and spirits are joined. Those who the Maker has brought together no one can tear asunder. Through His blessings and those of his Bride Andraste, you are husband and wife, now and forever more, in this world and the next.” She released their hands and took a step back. “You may kiss your bride.” She told Sebastian.

Sebastian stepped forward and pressed his lips gently but firmly to Anabel’s. He pulled back, just slightly to look at her. His bride. His wife. His. He kissed her again. “Yours.” He said softly.

She had to blink back tears. “Yours. Always.”

 

The Plaza outside the Chantry had been transformed, with garlands of flowers, and tables placed around the perimeter. Meredith had at first objected to the space being used, saying it was cutting off the flow of business and traffic and there would be rioting. Anabel had sent her back a message agreeing it was unusual but as so many important people would be attending it was the only space large enough to hold everyone, unless Meredith would be willing to open up the Viscount’s Keep and let them use the ballroom and banquet hall there?

Meredith had withdrawn her objection. 

Anders wandered around the plaza. He’d put on the clothes Varric had left, though he’d added his pauldrons to the black coat and he’d made it to the Chantry in time to see Hawke proclaimed Sebastian Vael’s wife, and it had been every bit as horrible to see as he had thought it would be. He didn’t even know why he was still here. He turned to head down the stairs to Lowtown and someone grabbed his arm.

“Really, Blondie? You’re gonna get all dressed up and not even let her know you were here?”

“She won’t miss me.” He said, wincing at how pathetic it sounded.

“You don’t think so?” Said Varric with a raised eyebrow. “Come on.” He turned and walked away, towards the crowd that had gathered around Hawke and Sebastian, and Anders was left to make the choice of whether to follow him or go and sulk down in Darktown, as Varric had put it. He followed.

Varric didn’t bother with the social niceties; when they were within earshot, he put two fingers in his mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle. Hawke immediately looked around, smiling when she spotted Varric.

Varric just gestured to the man standing beside him.

She looked and her eyes widened as she recognized him in his new clothes. Anders saw Vael look down at her in concern and saw her answer him. Sebastian’s looked over and spotted him. His hands tightened briefly on Hawke’s shoulder but then he took them away and watched as she ran over to Anders.

She flung her arms around him so fiercely that he actually staggered back a step. “Thank you.” She murmured against his chest. “Thank you.”

He lifted his hand to stroke her hair and then stopped. Between the elaborate pinned curls and the wreath of flowers he wasn’t sure where to put his hands. He settled for her shoulders, but even then, though he had bathed just this morning he felt like he might soil her dress. 

She pulled back to look at him and she had tears in her eyes. 

He couldn’t help a small smile. “Ridiculously sentimental. I’ve said it before.”

She laughed and wiped at them. “Yes. Look at you! You clean up well.” She stroked the pauldrons fondly. “Varric?” she asked.

“Of course. Bloody busybody dwarf.” 

“Isn’t he wonderful?” She asked happily. She looked at him expectantly and when he didn’t say anything prompted. “So?”

He frowned. “So?” 

She gave an exasperated sigh. “This thing I’ve got on? It’s a dress.” 

He couldn’t help giving a small laugh. “It’s not bad.” The truth was she’d never looked as beautiful or as unobtainable. 

_She is another man’s wife. She is unobtainable now._

She smiled suddenly, but it was a slightly melancholy smile. “Hardly a ragamuffin at all now.” Her eyes went back to Sebastian who had been watching them from where he stood beside Elthina and some of the Hightown nobles who had been her mother’s friends. “I never could have imagined that day that things would turn out like this.”

Neither could he. He thought about how she’d looked that first day, the day they'd met. Pale, hungover, dwarfed by the ill-fitting leather armor and cap she used to wear. “As I recall you weren’t thinking of much beyond having your hangover cured.”

She laughed then. “My needs were simpler then. Everything was, strangely enough.”

“It usually is when your main concern is having enough coin to buy food.” 

“True.” She looked up at him. “You’ll dance with me later, won’t you? And that wasn’t really a question.”

“Then I don’t really need to answer, do I?” He said dryly.

“I knew you’d catch on eventually.” She went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I’m glad you came. I really am.”

He forced himself to keep the smile on his face. “I am too.” Because apparently he was that much of a masochist. He watched as she returned to Sebastian’s, to her husband’s side, sliding an arm around his waist and leaning into him. Sebastian’s hand went up to toy with one of her curls, as he chatted with some lord or another.

 _Fuck this_. He turned towards the steps again only to find Isabela there, still looking respectable and still wearing her flower crown. 

“Come on. I’ll let you buy me a drink.” She told him. “I’m glad you turned up. It saved me a trip down to Darktown to slap you silly.”

“As long as you aren’t inconvenienced.” He muttered. 

“That’s exactly how I’ve always felt about things.” She grabbed two goblets from the tray of a passing waiter and passed him one. “It could be worse. At least you didn’t have to wear a flower wreath on your head. I mean look at me! I’m downright respectable.” She said, gesturing to the dress she wore. 

“How are you even coping?” He asked, feigning outrage.

“Simple – I’m not wearing any smalls. I’m absolutely starkers underneath this ridiculous dress.” She informed him and grinned as he snorted the wine he was drinking.

He couldn’t help laughing. “I suppose you told all of them before the ceremony?”

“Of course. Why do you think Aveline’s face was so red? You’re sitting with us.” She informed him, hooking her arm through his and dragging him towards the tables. “Varric made sure there was a place for you.”

 

 

The banquet ended and the tables were removed so the dancing could begin. 

Sebastian watched as Anabel talked with Orsino and Enchanter Rhosyn. Knight Captain Cullen was there as well, smiling quietly at something Anabel had said. There were a lot of templars there; Meredith had insisted on that, but everyone seemed strangely relaxed, templars and mages alike mingling with the other guests. He’d heard more than one story about this party or that twenty-five years ago, and how the mages used to come to all of them. Looking around the Plaza it was almost as if some kind of counter spell had been placed on Kirkwall, for the day at least. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that this was all it would take, or that it would last, but it was a start, it showed it could be done. Perhaps the situation wasn’t as hopeless as it had seemed after Sister Nightingale’s visit. 

He turned to look at Anabel again and couldn’t keep from smiling. She looked so incredibly beautiful. Anabel Hawke Vael. His wife.

“Choir boy. Could I have a word?” Varric slipped into the seat beside him.

Sebastian looked over at him with an easy smile. “Varric. You look so serious.” Far more serious than he usually was.

“It’s business actually. Merchant’s Guild business.”

Sebastian’s eyebrow rose. “I thought you made it a point to never get involved in the Guild’s business.”

“This was brought to my attention. It concerns you, and by extension Hawke, which kind of makes it my business too. It seems your grandfather had some dealings with the Guild.” 

Sebastian frowned. “My grandfather? What business would he have with the Merchant’s Guild?” 

“Seems he left you some money, in the event you ever married. As you’ve done that, the Guild is free to tell you about it.” He pushed over a piece of paper. 

Sebastian unfolded it, still frowning, still trying to make sense of it. It was the record of an account, which according to the paper his grandfather had set up shortly before he’d passed away. His eyes widened when he saw the sum mentioned. He looked back at Varric in surprise.

“I know.” Said Varric. “He was a generous man, your grandfather. He also left this for you.” He pulled out a letter, yellowed with age and passed it to Sebastian. “I’ll let you read that in private.“ He said and pushing himself to his feet, left him there. 

Sebastian just held the letter for a moment, looking at the familiar handwriting. Carefully he broke the wax seal.

_My Dearest Sebastian,_

_If you are reading this then I am long gone. As hard as it must have been to leave this world I loved so much, I have every faith that I am at the side of the Maker with your grandmother, Meghan beside me._

_I want to first tell you how proud I am of you, and how very much I love you. You show so much promise, and have such a good heart and mind, Sebastian, and I wish I could see the man I know you will become._

_If you are reading this letter, then things have happened as I feared they would, and your father, whether by force or simple pressure has given you to the Chantry. I have tried my best to dissuade him from this course of action. While it is true that at least one Vael of each generation does usually pledge themselves to the Chantry, that does not mean that one in every generation must. As wrapped up in tradition and duty as he is, Corbinian has trouble seeing this. I sometimes wonder if he even understands the true meaning of the words._

_I know you are truly devout, Sebastian, that your faith in and devotion to the Maker and his Bride is genuine, but I do not believe that this is the path the Maker intended for you. Of all my sons and grandsons it’s you who most remind me most of your grandmother, and it’s not merely the blue eyes you inherited from her. You have her spirit and her passion and her zest for life. It would be wasted in the Chantry while you are still so young._

_But if you are reading this then it means that you were strong enough, or in love enough to leave the Chantry and marry. I hope both._

_I have no doubt that because of this, your father will have disowned you, and cut you off._

_No matter what path you take in life, no matter what your father might have said when you informed him of your decision, you are a Vael of Starkhaven, a prince. With the right companion beside you will be happy and do good no matter how poor or how wealthy, but I don’t feel you should be punished for choosing love over Corbinian’s idea of duty._

_To this end, I am leaving you the funds out of my own personal estate to keep yourself and your wife as befits a Prince and Princess of Starkhaven. I know you will use the money wisely, to care not just for your bride and your children when they come, but to take care of all who depend on you, to make better the lives of all those around you. That is the duty of a Vael. That is what Andraste taught us, to care for others less fortunate._

_I wish I could have met your bride. I wish I could have given you Meghan’s locket for her as I promised you I would so many years ago. I wish that you might find as much happiness with your bride, as I did with mine._

_I know we will meet again at the side of the Maker, but I pray that it will be many years from now, after a life filled with joy and happiness._

_Your loving grandfather,_

_Lachlan Vael_

Sebastian stared at the letter and found himself blinking back tears. Quite literally a voice from the past. He’d never known that his grandfather didn’t approve of his father’s plan to send him to the Chantry.

How differently might things have turned out if his grandfather had lived longer? He might not have ended up in the Chantry at all. He might not have gone down that dissolute and dishonorable path he’d followed after his grandfather’s death. He might have stayed in Starkhaven, doing good, in spite of not being the heir, in spite of not being a priest.

He might have been slain with the rest of his family.

Had that been the Maker’s plan all along? To save him from that fate? To have him survive? Not just survive, but to renew his faith in the Maker and in himself? 

But to survive to rule Starkhaven? Or to keep Elthina safe? 

_I don’t believe this is the path the Maker intended for you._

And what of Anabel? Had he remained in Starkhaven he would never have met her. Was Anabel, his wife, the woman he had just pledged himself to, was meeting her, loving her and marrying her a part of that plan as well?

Yes. Of that he had no doubts.

He read the letter again and smiled at the words. His grandfather would have approved of Anabel, there was no question in his mind about that, and he would have approved of keeping Elthina safe as well. Elthina and his grandfather had been good friends.

_And what about that other decision you made?_ Asked that little voice inside him. _How would Grandfather feel about your beginning your life with Anabel on a lie?_

His Grandfather would be ashamed.

 _I’ll make it up to her. She’ll never regret her choice. I’ll make sure of it._ He wasn’t sure who he was talking to: his grandfather, himself, or even Anabel. 

Two small hands slid around his neck from behind. “Don’t turn around.” A familiar voice whispered at his ear. “My husband’s been watching me all day. Finally he’s distracted enough by some letter that he didn’t notice my sneaking over here.” 

His mouth curved into a smile. He turned and pulled her to him so she was sitting on his lap. “I’ve had some news.” He handed her the letter and watched as she read it. Her hand went to the locket she wore, and when she finished she looked at him smiling.

“He sounds wonderful.”

“He was. And quite generous, as well.” He handed her the account record from the Guild. 

She looked at the total sum and her eyes went round. “Well if you married me just for my money you must be feeling pretty foolish right about now.” 

He laughed out loud. “Well luckily I had other reasons as well.” He pulled her closer and rested his forehead against hers.

She sighed happily. “We’re married.”

His arm tightened around her. “We are indeed.”

“And disgustingly wealthy, apparently. What will we do with it all?” She asked him.

“I’ve a few ideas. There are quite a few organizations in Kirkwall that could use the aid.” 

“Your grandfather would have liked that.” She said with a smile. 

Sister Colinda came hurrying up to them. “It’s time for the first dance. Everyone is waiting.” 

 

Sebastian led Anabel to the center of the courtyard. The music started and he began waltzing her around to a sweetly haunting tune.

“The first day I met you I saw you dancing here.” He told her. “I wanted to dance with you then.”

She looked up at him with shining eyes. “And now you are.” 

“And now I am.” He agreed, and spun her around, making her laugh out loud.

There was an audible sigh as the hopeless romantics of Kirkwall watched them. They only had eyes for each other. 

Flora Harriman was standing beside Elthina. “It’s like something out of a storybook.” She said wistfully. “They’re such a beautiful couple.”

“Inside and out.” Elthina agreed with a happy smile. 

“Do you think they’ll live happily ever after?” Flora asked. “Is that even possible in Kirkwall?” 

Elthina put a gentle arm around her. “These are troubled times for Kirkwall, child, for all of us. But yes.” Her eyes glowed with pleasure as she watched Sebastian dance with his bride, both of them radiating happiness. “I think they will. They love each other so very much. And love can overcome all odds.” Even Sebastian’s ridiculous obsession with renewing his vows. She’d been watching them all day. Sebastian hadn’t been able to take his eyes from her, or his hands. He won’t be able to resist her for long, she thought. She turned back to Flora. “With that they can live and grow old together with a house full of blue-eyed, redheaded children and grandchildren. And yes, live happily ever after.” 

Anders snorted to himself as he overheard this, on his way to get himself another drink. Justice be damned. Tonight he intended to drink himself to oblivion.

Suddenly the import of the Grand Cleric’s words hit him and he stopped in his tracks. 

A house filled with children and grandchildren. 

The Grand Cleric wasn’t talking about a chaste marriage. And the old biddy wouldn’t lie just for appearance’s sake. 

He turned to look at the couple waltzing their way around the plaza. 

What the Void was Sebastian playing at? Why would he, why would any man fool Hawke into a marriage where he didn’t sleep with her? 

And then he knew.

The bastard wanted it all. His priesthood and Hawke – or at least to make sure that no one else had her. His fists clenched as he watched them. So intent was he that he didn’t hear Varric come up next to him. 

“She looks happy, doesn’t she Blondie?” Varric said gesturing towards Hawke. 

Anders hadn’t been able to look at Hawke since they’d spoken at the end of the service. He lifted his head and looked at her now, really looked at her.

She was radiant, looking up at Sebastian with eyes so full of love that it hurt to see. And to give him credit, Sebastian seemed just as enamored. 

She did look happy, happier than Anders had ever seen her.

He forced himself to swallow his dislike and distrust of Vael. 

_I’ll give him a chance. For her, I’ll give him a chance. After all the heartache and sorrow she’s dealt with she deserves this day, she deserves this chance for happiness._ He thought. 

Maker knew he could never give it to her. 

Varric watched the emotions play over his friend’s face. “Come on Blondie. I’ll buy you a drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put together the wedding service from a few different sources. Most helpful of these was handfasting.org, The Blessing of Hands, which I had never seen before turns out to be quite common, but I couldn't find an author for it. However, if you google "blessing of hands" you'll get all sorts of different versions of it.
> 
> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	14. Their First Night as Man and Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Anabel's wedding night proves to be a bit awkward. Isabela's wedding gift doesn't help matters.

Both Sebastian and Anabel were exhausted by the time they returned to the Amell mansion that evening: happily exhausted, but exhausted nonetheless. They paused at the door to wave at the crowds that had gathered there.

“Kiss her!” Someone shouted.

There was a roar of agreement with the sentiment and a chant of “Kiss, kiss, kiss…” started up.

Anabel looked up at Sebastian apologetically. “I don’t think they’ll take no for an answer.” 

Before he could respond, she'd gone up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft quick kiss to his lips.

There were loud grumbles from the crowd. “A real kiss!” Someone shouted. 

“Give her a taste of what’s to come!” Another yelled, and there were calls of approval and knowing snickers at the remark.

Anabel flushed and looked down but not before Sebastian had seen that she was hurt by the words, by the reminder that for her there wouldn't be anything more to come. “We should just go in.” She murmured low, and began to move past him. 

The crowd saw her head towards the door, and made their disappointment plain.

 _Void take it._ Sebastian grabbed her around the waist pulling her back so suddenly she had to put both hands against his chest to brace herself. She looked up at him in confusion. He moved one hand to her neck and bent and kissed her with all the passion he felt for her.

All the passion he would have to keep inside from now on.

That thought made him tighten his grip on her and pull her closer, parting her lips and thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She made a small sound and after a second’s hesitation responded with equal passion pressing herself closer and bringing her hand up to tangle her fingers in his hair. 

There was a roar of approval from the crowd and someone called out, “Get a room!” 

They both pulled back slowly, staring at each other.

She looked up at him, unable to read his expression. Maker she was going to miss kisses like that. She forced herself to smile. “Let’s go in.” She said, just as Bodahn, who had obviously heard the commotion, opened the door.

Sebastian suddenly smiled at her. “You’re forgetting a rather important tradition, Mistress Vael.” 

She gave him a puzzled look, though the name made her smile back at him, and then she squealed loudly when, instead of explaining his remark, he swept her off her feet. There was another roar of approval from the crowd as he carried her through the door and into the house.

“Being carried over the threshold.” She said breathlessly. slipping her arms around his neck. 

She seemed so pleased. “Did you think I’d forget?” He asked as he lowered her to her feet.

For the first time that day she looked uncertain. “I wasn’t sure if I qualified, actually. If we qualified.” 

A wave of guilt swept over him. “Yes.” He told her. “You qualify.” Every tradition, every romantic gesture, everything he could think of to show her how loved and cherished she was. She would have them all.

Everything except that one thing, he couldn’t give her.

Wouldn’t give her.

Unaware of his turmoil, Anabel smiled up at him. “Thank you.” 

He reached out and cupped her face, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “For what?”

She leaned into his touch. “For the kiss outside and the carrying. For sticking to all the traditions even though it’s not quite a real marriage.”

He looked down at her, almost overwhelmed by his guilt. Again. Still. 

Before he could say anything, she added, “And for today. It was a beautiful wedding. Perfect.” 

“Yes. It was.” He agreed. And it had been, in spite of the limitations of their marriage, In spite of the lie he’d told her. “It’s a real marriage, Ana.” He said fiercely. “We’ll have a good life together, I promise you.”

She looked at him, surprised by the vehemence of the statement. “Of course we will: we’ll be together.” She said simply. She turned her head and pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand. “I meant it when I told you that was all I really needed, Sebastian. I went into this with my eyes open. You’ve got nothing to feel guilty about.”

He couldn’t answer that. He reached out and pulled her close. 

She went willingly, sliding her arms around him trying to think of what she could say to reassure him. She rubbed her cheeks against his doublet and pulled back when the gold threads of the fabric scratched at her cheek. “Is this as itchy to wear as it is to lean against?” She asked.

He was more than happy to change the subject. “It’s a bit stiff, but fortunately, most of the itchy parts are on the outside.” He answered. “I wouldn’t mind changing out of it into something more comfortable though. What about you?”

Before she could answer her stomach suddenly let out a loud and prolonged grumble. He grinned at her and she couldn’t help laughing even as she blushed. “Some princess I am.” She commented wryly.

“Are you that hungry?” He asked. There had certainly been plenty to eat at the wedding.

“I’m starving.” She informed him. “I’ve had scarcely a bite since the luncheon banquet. Every time I tried to put something in my mouth somebody else would be there wanting to talk to me, or dance with me – don’t even get me started on how much my feet hurt.” She complained

“Poor darling.” He pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “I have an idea. Why don’t we change clothes and go raid the larder?”

Something about the way he had said it, so easily, so casually made it suddenly feel like it truly was their home, not just hers, that they were really living together, truly married, even without…. “That’s sounds wonderful.” She said, giving him a brilliant smile.

From the doorway, Bodahn cleared his throat and they both turned to look at him. “Excuse me messeres, but we – Orana, Sandal and I – we thought that might be the case. We’ve set up a small table in Messere Hawke’s room. Now that you’re back my boy and I can bring up the food. And Orana is waiting to help you with your dress, Messere.” He added, turning to Anabel.

After exchanging a quick look, they both thanked him profusely and headed towards the stairs, not speaking until Bodahn had returned to the kitchen. 

“They don’t realize…” Sebastian said, just as Anabel said, “I didn’t even think to tell them...” 

How did one even explain to the servants that your marriage was a chaste marriage, Anabel wondered. She had thought or hoped that they would have realized it when she’d asked them to clean out Leandra’s bedroom for Sebastian to use.

They stared at each other, uncertain how to proceed. 

“You know how much trouble they’ve probably gone to.” Anabel finally pointed out.

As devoted as the three of them were to her he could only imagine. “Yes.” He agreed.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Maybe we could just pretend? Just for tonight?” She suggested tentatively.

He heart started to thud uncomfortably. “Anabel…”

“Just until after they’ve taken the dishes and such away. They’ll go back to their rooms then, and you can go back to yours.” Her eyes were beseeching him and he was sure she had no idea of the effect they had it had on him.

How could he refuse her, he thought with a resigned smile.

She saw the smile and went up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

They parted ways at the top of the stairs. 

“Give me a quarter of an hour.” She told him.

“It will probably take that long just to unbind your hair.” He pointed out as she turned towards her. 

“Twenty minutes then.” She called over her shoulder.

She opened the door to her bedroom and her mouth fell open. 

It had been transformed. There were flowers and candles everywhere. It was still too warm for a fire but a huge floral arrangement had been put in the fireplace, all white flowers, with lots of greenery. Similar arrangements were spread around the room. Even the columns of the four poster bed had been wrapped in garlands. A table for two was set up in front of the fireplace with more candles and more flowers.

Orana had been tossing rose petals onto the bed but straightened up with a shy smile when Anabel came in.

“Oh, Orana. It’s beautiful.” It truly was. Anabel quickly crossed to the elf and gave her a gentle hug and kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Orana said bobbing a small curtsey. “But there’s more; Mistress Isabela left a gown for you. A special gift for your wedding night, she said to tell you.” 

Anabel tried to keep her expression neutral. “Did she?” She asked silently cursing the pirate. She could only imagine what this gown looked like. She knew all about the bets that Varric had taken on how long the chaste part of the marriage would last. If Varric knew Isabela was tossing lingerie her way in an effort to win the bet he’d disqualify her in an instant.

Of course that did nothing to help her dilemma right now.

When Anabel didn’t answer, Orana’s enthusiasm seemed to falter a bit. “Do you wish to see it?” She asked tentatively.

Anabel gave her a brilliant smile. “Of course I do.” She assured her.

Orana went to the wardrobe by the bed and pulled it out holding it up for Anabel’s approval.

Anabel stared at it. She had expected something else entirely. Something red or black or completely see through, cut down to the navel or reaching only to her thighs.

This was…tasteful.

Delicate lavender silk, decorate with a silver floral design over the hips, and a delicate belt of silver vines and flowers at the waist. True, it was sleeveless, with a rather deep V of a neckline, and the fabric was far more sheer than she would have liked for tonight, but it was beautifully cut, and the fabric was so skillfully gathered and draped that all the…questionable areas would be hidden.

She hoped. 

She reached out a hand to touch it. It was a truly exquisite garment. 

Orana saw the expression on her mistress’ face and smiled. She would look beautiful in it. The prince, the Master, she corrected herself, wouldn’t be able to resist her. “Come,” she told her mistress, ushering her into the bathing chamber. “We need to take your hair down first and brush it, and then put the gown on.” _Separate bedrooms indeed,_ Orana thought, as Anabel preceded her into the room. Not for long, if she had anything to say about it. 

Sebastian’s prediction proved accurate: getting her hair down from the elaborate style she’d worn all day took far longer than she’d thought it would, and in the end she was scrambling to get into the gown before Sebastian appeared. Bodahn and Sandal had already delivered and set up the meal and left again.

“Smalls.” Said Orana, as frantic as Anabel to get her ready, though for entirely different reasons. 

Anabel glanced down. The white smalls she wore showed plainly through the lavender of the gown. She cursed and slipped them off, and crossed to the mirror to look at herself. She felt her cheeks grow warm when she saw her reflection.

It wasn’t that the gown was so very low cut. Yes, it was low, but the problem was the width of the V, something she hadn’t realized until she’d put the gown on and Orana had fastened the tiny carefully concealed buttons at the waist, and closed the silver belt. She stared with growing dismay. The gown revealed at least a third of her breasts, not the tops, but the inner swell of them, almost to the nipple, as well as a surprising amount of her stomach. “Are you sure it’s fastened correctly?” She asked Orana. The front edges wrapped across each other. Maybe they’d put them in the wrong button holes. She was going to kill Isabela.

Orana looked absolutely thrilled with the results of her work. “Yes mistress. You look beautiful.” 

Anabel looked in the mirror. That was a whole lot of skin, she thought weakly. At least her assumption about it not being too sheer seemed to be true, though it was hard to tell with the room lit only by candles. She frowned trying to decide if you could actually see her nipples, or if it was just her imagination. At least the fall of fabric in the front hid everything.

And then she remembered there wasn’t a fall of fabric in the back.

 _Oh crap_ , she thought. She was just about to have Orana bring her another gown, or at least a shawl, when there was a soft knock on the door. Before she could stop her, Orana had crossed the room and opened it. Anabel ducked back into the bathing chamber. There had to be a shawl or something in there.

Sebastian smiled at the small elf. “Good Evening, Orana.” Though he'd debated about changing into sleeping clothes and a robe, in the end he'd decided on trousers and boots and a simple white shirt.

Orana curtsied to him. “Good Evening, Master.”

He looked around the room and couldn’t help smiling. Orana and the two dwarfs had worked wonders. “It looks beautiful, Orana. Thank you.” He looked around, wondering where Anabel was.

“I’ll just tell the mistress you’re here, Master.” 

She crossed to the bathing chamber door and knocked gently. “Mistress, the Master is here.”

Sebastian was thinking that he was going to have to convince Orana to use a different title than ‘master’ when the bathing chamber door opened and Anabel stepped out.

He could do nothing but stare.

Orana smiled as she bid them both good night and quickly left the room. She didn’t think either of them noticed.

Anabel couldn’t even look Sebastian in the eye. When he didn’t speak she finally said. “I’m sorry. It was a gift from Isabela. Orana was so excited, and the damned thing looked harmless before I put it on.” He still didn’t speak. 

Sebastian couldn’t stop staring. He seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. She’d looked lovely in her wedding gown but standing here in front of him….

The cool lavender of the gown was a perfect foil for her flaming hair, which she wore unbound, falling in soft curls to her waist. The sheerness of the silk offered tantalizing hints of the pale skin beneath it and the soft curves revealed by the wide neckline made him remember all to well the feel of her breasts beneath his lips, and the taste of her skin on his tongue.

She looked up and saw where he was looking and quickly brought her hair forward over her shoulders, covering the exposed flesh. She could feel herself blushing even pinker, and still Sebastian wasn’t saying anything. He hadn’t even moved from the door. “Maker, say something, Sebastian.”

“I think you’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.” He said, his voice hoarse. Surely this must be his punishment for the lie he had told her. 

“I didn’t mean to. I was hoping there was a shawl in the bathing chamber…” She should have told Orana no. She should have found something high necked and long sleeved made of sensible sturdy cotton. To wear this was just cruel, to both of them. “I’ll change.” She said, and stupidly she felt close to tears.

Something in her voice snapped him out of his paralysis and he quickly crossed to her side. This situation wasn’t her fault. It was his. “You’re beautiful Anabel. I’d notice it no matter what you wore.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “Dine with me. You were hungry twenty minutes ago. You must be starving now.”

As if it had heard him, her stomach let out another grumble and she quickly lifted her hand to cover it. “I am.” She admitted. “Let me change though.”

“I don’t want you to.” It was the truth. What he wanted to do was unfasten the gown part the fabric and slide his hands around her and taste and feel every inch of her.

But he couldn’t do that.

What he could do was share a meal with her dressed just as she was. If he was incapable of sharing a romantic dinner without throwing her down on the bed and making love to her then he might as well just give up right now. 

He walked to the table and held out the chair for her. His hands tightened on it when she crossed in front of him and the sheer fabric of the gown let him know both that she wasn’t wearing any smalls beneath the gown, and that her bottom was as delectable as the rest of her. He turned his attention to opening the champagne and trying to control the immediate physical reaction he’d had just from that glimpse, torn between saying something about it and letting her change into something else, and not wanting her to be embarrassed by the knowledge, because surely she couldn’t have realized how sheer the back of the gown was. By the time he had filled both their glasses, and handed her one, he’d regained some control. He sat down opposite her and raised his glass. “To my wife.” He said simply.

“To my husband.” She said softly back. They touched the glasses together and both drank, and then set them aside to partake of the food that had been left. As was always the case with Orana’s cooking, it was delicious, cold chicken in a delicate saffron sauce, with small potatoes and thinly sliced green beans, served with warm crusty bread. They ate and talked of the events of the day, but there was awkwardness somehow, as if they were strangers who had only just met. They tried to keep the conversation going, but the silences between the remarks grew longer and they both filled them with taking sips of their wine and soon the first bottle of champagne was gone. They were both silent as Bodahn and Sandal returned to take the dishes from the meal and to leave a plate of Orana’s desserts, as well as a second bottle of champagne. The door closed behind them.

Now they just had to wait until the others went to bed.

Anabel had been facing the door, and Sebastian the bed, and as the awkward silence continued she noticed his eyes going with increasing frequency to the large four poster bed behind her.

She finally turned to look at it. “Sweet Andraste…” She muttered. “It’s just looming there like some sort of threatening beast, isn’t it.” She said scowling at it. She looked back at him with an exasperated frown. “Why is this so strange?” She asked in frustration.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.” He had never been so uncomfortable with her, not even the day he first met her. Thank the Maker, Anabel was as forthright as she was. His own inclination would have been to simply pretend everything was all right. “I suspect it’s being confronted with the reality of the decision.”

“Yes.” She agreed. “I can’t imagine the Amell ancestral bed approves of a chaste marriage. I mean it was designed for procreation. It goes against its very nature.” She frowned, trying to think of a solution, and then smiled suddenly. “I know what to do.” She announced. She scrambled out of her chair grabbing the plate of desserts. “Grab the glasses and open the second bottle of wine.” She ordered him. 

“Anabel?” He asked, not understanding.

She gave him a brilliant smile. “A bed picnic. If we can’t stand thinking of it as a bed, we think of it as a rather extravagant sofa, just another place to sit and talk while we have dessert.”

He watched her and couldn’t help the smile that came to his face. 

She put the plate down on the night table, and rearranged the pillows so they could lean comfortably against them, before crossing to one of the wardrobes and pulling out a shawl. Where before she had been self-conscious and awkward now she was handling the situation as she did one of her jobs: with determination and almost ruthless efficiency.

The idea had a certain logic, he had to admit, and a bed picnic certainly couldn’t be any worse than staring at the bed, imagining all the ways he could take her on it. As she’d ordered, he opened the second bottle of wine and scooped up the glasses and by the time he’d turned back to her, she’d thrown the shawl around her shoulders, concealing the pale expanse of skin that had been distracting him all evening. Once that was done she climbed up on the bed tucking her feet beneath her. He refilled her glass and passed it to her and then did the same for his own. She patted the bed beside her and after removing his boots he joined her there, stretching his legs out in front of him.

She smiled up at him, and suddenly, in spite of the fact they were lying on the bed together, things felt normal again. She clinked her glass against his. “To bed picnics.” She said.

“To my wife, who has the best ideas.”

She took a sip. “I like hearing you call me that.” She said leaning back against the pillows.

“I like calling you that.” He took her hand, the hand that wore his ring now, and ran his finger over it. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the marriage you deserved.” He said softly.

Instead of saying something reassuring as he’d expected she would, she grinned and told him. “I’ll forgive you if you pass me one of the chocolate truffles.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “A far easier penance than I deserve.” He said holding out the plate to her.

“If you’d tasted Orana’s truffles you wouldn’t give them up so easily.” She said choosing one off the plate he offered. She took a bite and her eyes closed in ecstasy.

“I’ve never known anyone who had quite the reaction you do to chocolate.” He informed her, holding the plate out to her again.

She smiled as she took a second truffle. “I never even tasted it until I was nine. I’ll never forget it. I thought I’d died and gone to the Golden City.” 

He put down the plate and leaned back next to her. “Was this before or after you worked for the smugglers?”

“During, actually. Some squire who was staying at the inn gave me a piece.” She frowned. “Maker, what was his name? We spent days together. The knight he was serving used to stay up drinking all night and sleep most of the day and the poor boy spent most of his time sitting around waiting for the man to wake up. He was nice though. Not many boys that age will waste their time with a boy younger than themselves.”

“He didn’t know you were a girl?” Sebastian asked. It still seemed hard to fathom that she’d successfully disguised herself as a boy for most of her life.

“Not until Da came in and carried me off.” She said with a grin. “You should have seen the expression on his face.”

“You probably scarred him for life.” Sebastian teased.

“Maker, I hope not. I liked him.” She frowned again. “I wish I could remember his name.” 

He reached out to twine his fingers through her hair. “Where did you move after you left Amaranthine?” He asked.

She shifted to her side looking over at him. “Highever. They were just expanding the port there and there was lots of work to be had.”

They traded stories for a while, and then as Sebastian watched, her eyes drifted closed and she fell asleep, with a small smile curving her lips. He reached out to caress her face lightly.

He would make this work. She would never regret marrying him. 

He carefully eased himself from the bed, clearing the dishes, and pulled the covers up around her. He blew out all but one candle before leaving the room. Boy was lying outside by the door, and gave him an inquiring look as he came out. Sebastian held the door open. “Go on, Boy. Keep her company.”

Boy gave a soft huff and padded into the bedroom, and Sebastian continued to his own room, alone.

 

Anabel woke the next morning to Boy’s scratching impatiently at her door. She lifted her head and partially opened one eye. It was only beginning to get light.

“Boy….” She groaned into the pillow. What was wrong with that dog? She buried her head in the pillow. 

Boy whined and pawed again. 

Grumbling she got up and stumbled to the door, eyes not even fully open. She hated mornings. “I thought mabari were supposed to be so smart. Can’t even open a door?” She complained.

She opened the door and Boy went running to the other bedroom and nudged the door open pushing his way inside. He gave a gentle bark from inside the room.

“And Good Morning to you too, Boy.”

Sebastian. Anabel couldn’t help smiling as she remembered he was here, that he would be here every morning from now on. She heard the sound of water splashing. It was barely even light. Did he always get up this early? She heard him singing softly to himself. How in Andraste’s name was he so chipper at this hour? He’d been up even later than she had. Still half asleep, she stumbled, yawning, to his door and pushed it open. Sebastian was standing at the mirrored dresser, in just trousers, his hair still wet but combed smoothly back, and had just finishing shaving apparently. He saw her standing there and smiled at her, patting his face dry with a towel.

“Good morning, love.” He'd woken early and decided to go to the Chantry for the morning service. He hadn't expected her to be awake. He smiled as he looked at her. She looked beautiful, even rumpled and sleepy, her eyes barely open, her hair everywhere. 

She didn’t respond, just stumbled towards him and slipped her arms around his waist burrowing her face into his chest, smiling at the warmth of his bare skin. 

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmph.” 

He looked down. Her eyes were closed. “You’re not even awake yet, are you?” He asked, smiling.

“Hmm.” She agreed. Maker he was comfortable to lean against. She tried unsuccessfully to hide a yawn. 

Apparently his wife was not a morning person, he thought with a smile. His wife. He felt a thrill at the words. He'd done the right thing in marrying her. No one would be as loved and as cherished as she would be. “There’s no reason you have to get up early simply because I do, Ana.” He said softly. “Why don’t you go back to bed?”

She nodded her head, face still buried against his chest. “Go on then.” He said kissing her forehead and giving her a gentle push towards the door before going into his own bathing chamber to get the rest of his clothes.

She stood there, strangely reluctant to return to her room, and then she saw his bed, already neatly made and barely hesitated before climbing up on it, pulling the covers free and burrowing into the pillows as she pulled the blanket up around her. The sheets and pillows smelled like him, and she snuggled happily into them, closing her eyes and almost immediately falling asleep again.

Sebastian spotted her there as soon as he came out and couldn’t help laughing. “Ana, I meant your bed.”

There was no response. Could she really be asleep already? He walked over to the bed. 

She was. As sound asleep as if she hadn’t been walking around mere seconds before. He stared down at her uncertain what to do. In the end he decided it really didn’t matter. Surely no trouble could come of her sleeping in his bed while he wasn’t even in the house.

It was a thought that would haunt him later that evening as he inhaled the sweet scent of her that seemed to linger on his pillows and bedding, making him toss and turn restlessly for most of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	15. Adjusting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Anabel learn that living together requires some adjustment and Sebastian in particular finds it more difficult than he thought.

Both Anabel and Sebastian quickly learned that living together required some adjustment, even when sex wasn’t involved.

Anabel hadn’t thought there would be for some reason; after all for the last few months Sebastian had been at the house every day, for most of the day, usually arriving sometime after the midday service was through and staying until well after dinner. She’d thought there wouldn’t be that much more to find out, but in the first few weeks they were married she learned all sorts of things.

She learned that her husband rose ridiculously early most mornings, no matter how late they’d been up the night before. At first she made an attempt to get up with him but she quickly gave it up after she’d fallen asleep with her head on the dining room table two mornings in a row.

She learned he was almost obsessively neat. Freakishly so, she informed him. It wasn’t normal, and it certainly wasn’t healthy. His bed was made before Orana or Bodahn had a chance to do so. All his personal items were carefully lined up on his dresser, always in the same order, always the same distance between them, always and the same distance from the edge. Even the book he would read before sleeping was always in exactly the same place on his night table. She knew this because she deliberately changed the position of it, putting it at strange angles, or leaving it open, or on the other night table, and one time even hiding it and leaving him a note with clues as to its whereabouts. 

And she learned that having him be the last person she saw at night and the first person she saw in the morning made her happier than she’d thought possible, even before they had gotten past the strange awkwardness of his walking her to her bedroom door and kissing her gently on the cheek or the forehead before wishing her a good night and leaving her there alone.

Sebastian learned that seeing his wife’s face light up when she saw him in the morning was the best start to the day, and that a smile and a gentle kiss from her, even when she was half asleep, kept him smiling happily for most of the morning while he completed his work at the Chantry.

He learned she looked as lovely first thing in the morning, yawning and rumpled with sleep, her eyes barely open, as she did when he returned at midday when she would be fairly crackling with energy, or late at night when she finally seemed able to let herself be still, sitting beside him reading, or talking quietly of the day’s events.

He learned that she seldom went to bed before midnight, and that his suspicion from that first morning, had been correct: she was definitely not a morning person.

He learned she could fall asleep anywhere at all if she was tired enough, even face first into a plate of scrambled eggs as she did on one of the first mornings after the wedding, when in spite of his assurances that she didn’t need to, she’d insisted on getting up with him. 

He learned that she was the first one to laugh at herself when she woke up after falling asleep in a plate of scrambled eggs. 

And he learned she had not exaggerated in the slightest when she’d proclaimed herself to be a slob that night they’d renewed their acquaintance at the state dinner for the Orlesian ambassador the year before.

She’d offered him the desk in the library for his own use, saying that she was fine with just the one in the mansion’s main room. Both desks were piled high with correspondence of every kind, formal letters and scrawled notes and messages as well as precariously balanced stacks of books. Bodahn did his best to keep her organized, but she quickly wreaked havoc with it, pulling out some papers to read and completely ignoring others. As far as he could tell the decision of what to read and what to ignore was completely arbitrary.

It was late afternoon. Anabel was curled up on the couch, a book open on her lap. She’d changed into a dress as she’d started doing in the evenings unless they were heading down to Lowtown and the Hanged Man. It was a deep green silk that made her eyes look like emeralds, and her hair was pulled partially back, the rest of it left flowing down her back. She looked every inch a princess, but for the fact that her shoes were lying on the floor beside the couch and her bare toes were peeking out from beneath the hem of her dress.

Sebastian had been going through the stacks of papers on the desk in an effort to make some sense of them. It simply couldn’t be done. “How do you even find anything?” He asked.

She looked up from the book she was reading, unsure of what he would think if she told him she rarely ever looked for anything. “I have a general idea of where things are.” She vaguely wondered why she was even bothering to lie about it.

“Anabel, some of these papers go back years. I’m not certain where to even begin.” 

“Just toss them into a box. I’ll sort through them later.” She said, returning to her reading. 

He looked at the pile, and then back at her. She was completely absorbed once again, twirling a long red curl around her finger. He shook his head. He couldn’t do it. “I sure half of this could have been thrown out the day you received it.”

She gave a small frown, still not looking up from her book. “Well I must be keeping them for a reason.” 

He walked over to her and held up an elaborate gilded invitation. “This one’s from Lady Albermarle. An invitation to her Harvest party.”

She glanced at it. “So it is. Short notice though.” She looked at the front of it the envelope. “And she didn’t include you. Rude.” She turned back to her book.

He couldn’t help laughing. “Anabel, it’s from last year.”

She looked up again. “Oh.” She said trying to look suitably contrite and failing completely. “I did wonder why Lady Albermarle seemed so miffed.” 

Sebastian gave her an exasperated look, though he couldn’t quite hide the smile. 

“Perhaps I didn’t need to keep that one.” She admitted smiling in return. She gave a small sigh, and closed her book, realizing that he wasn’t going to let this go. Not bothering to put her shoes on she walked over to the desk, and picked up the next piece of paper and looked it over. “Hmmm. Apparently it’s time to refinance my mortgage. You see, I’m being financially responsible, keeping things like this.” She informed him. “It says rates have never been lower.” She added helpfully.

He rolled his eyes. “You own this house outright.” He pointed out.

“Oh, right.” She tossed it into the waste bin beside the desk, and took another. She glanced at it and then gave him a mischievous look. “This one claims to sell a potion guaranteed to increase your virility and manliness if you’re having trouble with…well, you know…” She gestured towards his lower torso.

He just folded his arms and looked at her.

She tried to hide her smile. “Right. Not funny.” She added it to the waste bin and then picked up the next. She read it and her smile vanished. All expression disappeared. Her face was suddenly carefully blank.

The change was so abrupt that Sebastian couldn’t help being concerned. “Ana?”

“You’re right. Let’s just get rid of the lot of it.” She crumpled the paper she was holding and threw it towards the basket, missing it, and then shoved the whole pile off of the desk. Only about half of it landed in the bin. “I need some fresh air.” She turned and walked quickly from the room. 

“Ana!” Sebastian called after her. What on Thedas had that been? He bent and picked up the crumpled note.

_Anabel._  
 _You just left for your Wicked Grace night. I just wanted to say that I’m so glad we have this chance to get to know each other again. I’m very proud of you. Never think that I’m not. We’ll talk tomorrow, when I get back from lunch with Gamlen._  
 _I love you._  
 _Mother._

He smoothed it out and put it back on the table before going in search of Anabel. As he suspected he might, he found her in the garden sitting under the tree in the corner, her knees drawn up, her arms wrapped around them, her face hidden. He sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms, smoothing her hair as she wept against him. 

“I’m a horrible person.” She finally said.

“No, you’re not.” He assured her.

“It’s been lying there for almost a year.” She said between sobs. “I didn’t even know it was there.”

“You found it now. You know that she was as happy for the opportunity to reconcile as you were.”

“I couldn’t even be bothered to look at my desk. If I hadn’t married you and you hadn’t needed a desk I probably wouldn’t have found it for another year.” 

“If then.” He said.

She looked at him in surprise and couldn’t help laughing through her tears. “I’m a slob.” She said, resting her head on his shoulder.

“You truly are. Impressively so.” He said. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes.

She smiled. “And you’re stuck with me.” She reminded him.

“Indeed I am.” His arms tightened around her. “Very happily stuck, I might add.” 

She looked up at him. “Truly?” 

“Truly.” He brushed away a tear, and kissed her gently on each eyelid, and unable to help himself once on the mouth. Just that brief taste and he had to force himself to pull away. 

She leaned her head back on his shoulder. “I’m happy too. You know that, right?” She laced her fingers through his. 

He ran his thumb over the back of her hand and then lifted it to his lips. “Yes.” To his great relief she did seem happy. It made him believe they truly could make this work. And then his chest tightened at her next words, spoken low and without looking at him.

“I miss it sometimes. Those other kisses.” 

He didn’t say anything and when she glanced up she saw his jaw clenching. 

She looked back at their hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just afraid that if I don’t say it, if we aren’t honest then…”

“No, you’re right.” He forced himself to say. “It’s best we be open about it.” But he didn’t say anything else and if possible he looked even more grim. 

_Do you miss it too?_

She’d wanted to ask it, but she couldn’t, not when he looked like that. “My mother would have been happy about it. She wouldn’t have believed I managed to land you of course, but she would have loved the wedding.” She realized she was chattering, just filling that awkward silence, but she couldn’t help it.

“Yes, she would have.” Sebastian replied, but she could tell his mind was elsewhere. 

She cursed herself for having said anything at all. “What shall we do this evening?” She asked. 

He didn’t answer for a few seconds. “I was thinking I might go to Vespers at the Chantry.” He finally said. 

“Oh.” He went to the early morning service every day but he hadn’t gone twice a day, not in the month they’d been married. 

Sebastian barely heard her. The subject of those other kisses and caresses hadn’t come up before now, and he had managed to fool himself into believing that Anabel hadn’t been thinking about them, that she was all right with the chaste marriage, happy even. Now that it had come up he could feel that fear and doubt and guilt all uncurling in his chest and he needed the reassurance that could only come from hearing the Chant, and seeing Elthina, knowing she was safe, that he was doing this to keep her so. He needed to be reminded that he was doing the right thing in denying himself, and in denying Anabel. He needed to forget that trace of regret he’d heard in Anabel’s voice when she said she missed those other kisses. He looked down to find her watching him apprehensively. “Is that all right?” He asked, feeling like the worst sort of coward. 

“Of course.” She said automatically. “Do you want me to go with you?” 

“No.” He said too quickly. “There’s no need. But I should hurry if I’m to make it in time.” He pushed himself to his feet and held out his hand to help her up. “I might stay and speak with Elthina afterwards.”

She hadn’t really wanted to go to Vespers but she couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt at the rejection of her offer. She forced herself to smile, but if felt uncomfortable and false. She didn’t think she’d ever felt like that with Sebastian before. “All right. Give her my love. What time shall I tell Bodahn to serve dinner?” 

“I don’t know how late I’ll be. Go ahead and eat without me.” He kissed her on the forehead and left before she could say anything else.

He found some comfort during the service: the routine, the familiar sounds of the chant, the smell of the incense all soothed him. Elthina was happy to speak to him afterwards, and though he was able to tell her some of what was troubling him, he was unable to confess the lie he had told Anabel, and since he knew Elthina disapproved of the chastity to begin with, he couldn’t talk about his difficulties, and the conversation was awkward. He left her feeling almost as tense and dissatisfied as when he had walked into the Chantry. Any comfort he had found in the service itself had vanished. 

His mood didn’t improve when he returned home and found that Anabel was out. Bodahn informed him that she had gone to take supplies to the clinic.

That she had gone to Anders.

She didn’t return for almost an hour. He’d spent the time in the library ruthlessly clearing out the papers on the desk. He’d moved anything left that he thought she needed to see to her desk in the other room, and had been sitting there, staring at the empty space wondering what she was doing down in the clinic for so long.

With Anders.

Anders, who hadn’t been selfish, who had given her up, knowing that he couldn’t give her what she deserved.

Who had been a better man than he was.

That thought made him run his fingers through his hair in frustration. He had just about made up his mind to go down to the clinic and get her, when he heard her talking to Bodahn, heard the sound her boots on the tile floor as she ran into the library, her face lighting up when she saw him.

All his worry and anxiety seemed ridiculous when he saw that smile and the love in her eyes. 

She’d changed into an old pair of leathers with her hair in a careless braid down her back and she ran up to him, going up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” She said starting to pull away. “I wouldn’t have stayed so long if I had.”

He caught her hand and pulled her back into his arms, lifting her off her feet and swinging her around and she laughed in delight, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing the tip of his nose.

His earlier somberness seemed to have vanished. The visit to the Chantry had helped. She supposed it must be difficult for him to give it up after so many years, and she could only wonder at her own selfishness in not realizing it before now. “Did you miss me, then?” She asked him, wrapping her legs around his waist. 

“Yes.” He said honestly. “I did.”

“I missed you too.” She said, stroking the side of his face.

He turned his head and kissed her palm. “I shouldn’t have left like that, Ana. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left so abruptly.” He hesitated for a moment and then tightened his arms around her. “I should have told you I miss them too. Those kisses and those touches. I miss them.” He buried his face in her neck, inhaling the scent of her, made almost dizzy by it. “I couldn’t face it.” He confessed. “Couldn’t face knowing it was my decision that… that you might be regretting….” His voice trailed off.

She stroked his hair, feeling relief flooding through her. It made all the difference, knowing he was struggling as well and that he could tell her that. “We’ll be okay.” She said. “As long as we can talk about it, we’ll be okay.” 

She was right. He pulled back his head to look at her. “How did you get to be so wise at such a young age?” 

“I’ve no idea. I get hit on the head a lot. Perhaps something’s been knocked into place that’s caused It.”

Reluctantly, he put her down, but kept his arms around her. “How is Anders?” He forced himself to ask.

“Exhausted. There’s an illness going through Darktown. The clinic was packed. I feel awful that I hadn’t checked up on him before this. It can’t be a good sign that there’s sickness already and it isn’t even winter yet.” 

“You should be careful. You don’t want to get sick.”

She scoffed at the idea. “I’m healthy as a horse. I hardly ever get sick.” 

“Strange because I seem to recall you spending almost a month in bed not too long ago.”

“Duels with the Arishok don’t count. It suddenly occurred to me after you left that I hadn’t been down there since before the wedding and I knew he must have run short, so I brought some supplies down and made him tell me what else he needs. Four years I’ve been bringing that man supplies, and I still can’t get him to ask for anything. Are you hungry?”

“I am actually.”

“So am I. I told Bodahn we’d eat when you got back. It felt too strange to be eating without you. It felt strange just being here without you.” 

The statement was so heartfelt that he couldn’t help but smile at her. “We’re apart every morning when I’m at the Chantry.” He pointed out, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

“I’ve gotten used to you being here at night. It’s strange when you aren’t.” She leaned her head against his chest. “Shall we make things easy and just eat in the kitchen?” She suggested. “You know, like normal people do.” 

“Yes.” He agreed and they went into the kitchen hand in hand, and ate their dinner at the table there, chatting easily, laughing at each other’s jokes, just like normal people. 

And even when they walked up to the stairs at the end of the evening and went to their separate bedrooms it felt normal.

Almost normal, Anabel admitted, as she closed the door behind her. It felt doable at least.

 

Harvestmere gave way to Firstfall and the weeklong Satinalia celebration, and then the week of fasting that followed (which Anabel irreverently informed Sebastian she was certain hadn’t originated because of piety or devotion but was merely the result of the hangovers and aversion to food that invariably followed the drunken revelry of Satinalia). 

And almost immediately after that was the first anniversary of the attempted Qunari invasion. 

The memorial ceremony and unveiling of the statue proved to be something of a joke, at least to Anabel. The statue that had been commissioned turned out to be of a knight in full plate armor, his foot resting on the Arishok’s head. Sebastian and her companions had been outraged, and there had been grumbles from the crowd that had gathered, but Anabel had brushed it aside, actually laughing. 

“The city’s safe and I’m alive and happy.” She’d told them, slipping a hand into Sebastian’s. “I don’t need to play Meredith’s little power games.” 

Before the week was out someone had climbed the statue and painted the Hawke crest on the statue’s chest plate. Meredith ordered it cleaned off but it reappeared almost immediately, and after the third time it had happened, the Knight Commander ordered a Templar stationed there at night to prevent it happening again. 

The leaves disappeared from the trees, but, as if to apologize for last year’s brutal winter, the temperatures remained fairly mild even as they headed into the month of Haring, and Anabel began planning her Solstice celebration.

She’d been prowling around the less reputable markets trying to find something special for Sebastian’s birthday, and returned back to the mansion later than Sebastian had expected. 

He was writing letters at his desk in the library when she came in. He looked up to greet her and frowned. 

She was disheveled, streaks of dirt on her face and the leather armor, but it was the jagged tear in her jerkin that had made him frown. 

“I’m fine.” She said before he could ask. “The fucking Carta attacked me down in the Undercity.”

“The Carta? Why would the Carta attack you?”

“I’ve no fucking idea. I haven’t had a problem with them for years. Poor Fenris got the worst of it. Luckily we were close to the clinic. He’s got to stay overnight there but Isabela’s staying with him, if only to keep him and Anders from killing each other. Varric’s looking into what’s going on with the Carta.” She was scowling. “Something was strange about the whole thing. They were shouting out my name: There she is, that’s Hawke, but it wasn’t me they went for first, it was the others. I only got this when I got between one of their assassins and Fenris.”

Sebastian didn’t like the sound of that at all. “We should be careful.” He said.

She shook her head. “I’m sure we don’t need to worry. It’s probably nothing.” She smiled and kissed his cheek. “I’m going to have a bath, and go to sleep early, I think.”

“We’ve got that dinner at Flora Harimann’s.” Sebastian reminded her. “Do you want to cancel? I’m sure Flora would understand.”

Hawke groaned. “If it was anyone else I would, but I like Flora. No, we’ll go.” 

So they went, but they made it an early night, with Anabel pleading fatigue, apologizing to Flora, telling her it had been a ridiculously long day. 

Dulcie de Launcet overheard her and gushed. “Perhaps it is more than that which makes you tired, Champion? I remember when I was expecting, the first sign I had always was being tired.”

For a moment Anabel couldn’t think what she meant. She glanced at Sebastian and caught the barest hint of irritation with the Comtesse and the she realized. “Oh. No, it’s not that.” She stammered. 

Sebastian slipped his arm around her waist and when she looked up his eyes were apologetic.

Dulcie didn’t seem to have noticed. “Are you certain Champion?” She asked knowingly and when Anabel blushed she laughed delightedly.

“Comtesse, truly it isn’t…I’m not…” She could feel her cheeks flaming.

The Comtesse waived aside her denials. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep your secret, Champion.”

They managed to escape, and made their way down the stairs of the mansion. 

“Odious woman.” Anabel muttered. “I don’t know why people keep pestering me about it.”

Sebastian looked at her in surprise. “Have they been?” He asked.

She flushed again. “A bit.” She admitted. “All right, a lot.”

He frowned again. “How have I missed this?”

“It’s usually after dinner when we ladies leave you gentlemen to your port. It would be ridiculous even if we did have that sort of marriage. I mean we’ve only been married three months. I know you look virile and manly and all…”

“I’m sorry.” He said, cutting her off. 

She glanced up at him. His face had that shut off grim look again. “Oh, no you don’t.” She said, stepping in front of him so he was forced to stop walking. They were just at the stairs that led down to the Chantry Plaza. There was no one else around. “Talk.” She ordered him.

For a moment she thought he wouldn’t, and then he burst out. “You should have children. You would be the most amazing mother. I shouldn’t have taken that away from you. I shouldn’t have been so selfish…be so selfish.”

“There were two parts to our vows, you know.” She reminded him. “You weren’t the only one making the decision. I did agree to it you know.” 

“You wanted children.”

“I’ve wanted a lot of things in my life. When I was six I wanted to be a dragon.”

“Anabel….” He wasn’t in the mood for joking. 

“When I was nine I wanted to marry a prince.” She said with a gentle smile. “You get some things, and not others.” She slipped both her hands into his. “You probably wanted to marry someone well organized and efficient who didn’t leave bloody footprints throughout the house.”

His hands tightened on hers. “You do leave quite a few of those.” He said unable to keep from smiling.

“Someone who did needlepoint, and pressed flowers. Who talked of genteel subjects and never came home from the market complaining that the fucking Carta had attacked her again.”

He put his arms around her, keeping hold of her hands, bringing them loosely behind her back. “I can’t even imagine it.” He told her. 

“I think everyone gives up something, some dream or wish when they marry. I’ve gotten so much more than I ever expected to have.” She looked up at him with all the love she felt showing plainly in her eyes. 

He could only marvel at the gift he’d been given. “I don’t deserve you.” He bent down and kissed her on the mouth. She tried to pull her hands free so she could touch him, but he tightened his hold on them suddenly and she couldn’t. 

She pulled her head back and gave him an uncertain look.

He didn’t know quite how it happened, if it was the look in her eyes, or the softness of her lips beneath his, or if it was holding her the way he was, with her hands behind her, having her trapped, 

She saw the sudden flare of desire in his eyes, and then his mouth was on hers, and he was kissing her in a way he hadn’t been since before Sister Nightingale’s visit.

She couldn’t help the sound she made, welcoming the thrust of his tongue in her mouth, welcoming the taste of him and the feel. Welcoming the roughness even as she tasted blood, and realized that she must have cut her lip on her own teeth, and she didn’t care. She met every thrust and caress with her own, and struggled to pull her hands free, not to stop him but so she could pull him closer.

He wouldn’t let go. Instead he transferred both her hands to one of his and reaching up wrapped his other hand around the side of her neck, holding her head in place so he could deepen the kiss even more, as if he was trying to devour her. He only stopped when he felt the wetness on her cheeks and realized it was tears.

She was crying. She was still kissing him back just as fervently as he was kissing her, but tears were streaming down her face. 

What in Andraste’s name was he thinking?

He released her and stepped back, staring at her in dismay. 

They stood there, looking at each other, both breathing heavily. Her lips were red and swollen from the force of his kiss. Her eyes were pleading with him but he didn’t know if it was for him to stop or to continue. 

He couldn’t continue. He shouldn’t even have…

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Some light seemed to go out of her eyes and a careful mask came down. She reached up and wiped her eyes. “You don’t have to apologize.” She said. Her tone was almost…polite. As if he was a stranger who had accidently trod on her toe. 

“Anabel.” He moved towards her but she put out her hand, touching the tips of her fingers to his chest keeping him from coming closer. He froze where he was, stunned. She’d never stopped him before, not like that.

“It’s okay.” She said after a moment. “We were bound to slip up at some point. I think we both knew that.” Her mouth felt bruised and she ran her tongue over the cut on the inside of her lip. Her whole body seemed be tingling. “We should go home.” 

She didn’t speak for the rest of the walk home. 

They walked into the mansion.

“Would you like something before we go up?” Sebastian asked. “A brandy, perhaps?”

She turned to him with that same polite smile. “No. I truly am tired. I think I’ll just turn in.”

He looked at her not knowing what she was thinking, not knowing how to make it right. “I’ll turn in as well then.”

She walked beside him up the stairs, turning to him when they reached his bedroom door. “Good night.”

Usually he walked her to her door. “Anabel, talk to me.” 

She looked away. “No, not tonight. That wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“I can’t tell if you’re angry with me.”

She looked at him then, a puzzled look on her face. “Why would I be angry?” 

“I kissed you.”

She gave a short laugh. “I wasn’t exactly passive, you know.”

No. She hadn’t been. She’d been anything but passive. They’d never shared a kiss quite like that before. He met her eyes and could tell she was thinking of it too.

Her face softened when she saw his expression. “No, I’m not angry. I just need to …” She tried to find the right word. “I need to adjust is all. I need to remind myself that I can’t have that, however much I want it.” She looked past him, staring at one of the Amell portraits hanging on the wall. “Having that taste of it and remembering the things we did before …it’s difficult. I’m sure in the morning it will be easier, but I can’t be around you right now, not if I’m going to keep that vow we made. I’m not angry. I love you and I want you, but I can’t have you, so I need to stay away from you, just for a little while.” She smiled wistfully at him and walked to her own room quietly shutting the door behind her.

Sebastian stared at that closed door, completely at a loss as to what he should do. Eventually he turned and went into his own bedroom. He pushed the door shut with both hands and leaned his head against it wondering how he had so thoroughly misjudged things.

He’d thought if Anabel didn’t know their marriage wasn’t truly a chaste marriage, that he’d be able to resist her. His worry had been that if she knew there was no vow, she would be the one unable to resist temptation. 

How could he have been so willfully blind?

She was far stronger than he was. She’d shown it in a hundred different ways since the first day he’d met her. She’d shown it just now.

The danger didn’t come from Anabel’s knowing the truth.

The danger came from him and his inability to resist her.

He closed his eyes, praying for strength, wanting to do the right thing, for all of them, and no longer certain of what that was any more, or if he could ever achieve it without losing her along the way.

Sleep eluded him for what felt like hours and he had barely drifted off when he heard Boy barking and growling and then footsteps and voices shouting. 

“Don’t harm her, don’t spill the blood of the Hawke! Use the poison.” 

He heard Anabel, cursing and screaming for them to let her go, and he leapt out of bed running to the door, and flinging it open. 

Anabel had been dragged down the stairs by a group of dwarves. As he ran towards them, she managed to get an arm free and backhanded the dwarf who been trying to press a rag to her face – the poison they’d talked about no doubt – and then grabbed his dagger from him as he staggered back, her hand only half on the hilt and though he could see no blood, he knew she must have cut herself. Her nightgown had been torn at the shoulder, and there was blood at the corner of her mouth where one of them must have struck her. 

The sight of it filled him with a white hot rage and he tore down the stairs, throwing himself at the group, grabbing one who had hold of her by the back of the neck, and felling him with one well-placed blow. 

Anabel spun and slashed the throat of another. She grabbed his sword and tossed it to Sebastian. 

It wasn’t his weapon of choice but he made good use of it, gutting the dwarf who charged up to him, daggers drawn. Boy tackled one of the three remaining, but just as Sebastian thought they had a chance, another group came charging in from the kitchen.

Anabel was trying to move with her usual swift grace, but was hampered by the long nightgown she wore, some concoction of pink silk and lace that was never designed to be worn in combat. She stumbled falling to her knees. 

He went running over to her bending to help her up, and something slammed into the back of his head. He staggered and fell to the floor. He heard Anabel scream his name and then she was shouting, cursing the Carta, and he heard the sound of someone being struck and she was suddenly silent. He forced his eyes open and tried to push himself to his knees shaking his head, trying desperately to clear his vision, fighting the nausea and dizziness that followed the movement. They had hold of her, and were trying to put the cloth over her nose and mouth again, and he could only watch helplessly as they dragged her struggling towards the front door.

 _Andraste, please, no._ He prayed desperately. 

Just before they reached the door, it suddenly flew open, and a man came charging through, a fast moving blur of silver and blue, throwing himself at the dwarves, ruthlessly cutting them down with a huge two handed sword, as Anabel scrambled back against the wall trying to get out of his way.

The last of the dwarves fell, and the man bent over, his hands braced on his knees. He lifted his head and looked over at Anabel, breathing heavily. “Don’t you even lock your fucking front door?” He asked.

Anabel blinked up at him in disbelief. “Carver?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit of a transitional chapter, but I promise things actually plot related happen in the next chapters.
> 
> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	16. A Fortuitous Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Carver deal with the aftermath of the attack. Carvers learns of his sister's marriage and tries to understand it.

“Carver?” Anabel asked in a disbelieving voice. She hadn’t heard from Carver in months, hadn’t even known for certain where the Wardens had him stationed these days. She blinked, trying to clear her vision. She must be hallucinating. Whatever had been on that rag they’d been pressing to her face must be making her see things in addition to making her dizzy and vaguely nauseated. 

He crouched down beside her. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” He saw the cut and bruises at the corner of her mouth and his nostrils flared angrily. “Bastards.” He muttered under his breath.

It was him. He was really here. “Oh, Carver!” She flung herself at him with such force that almost any of her other friends would have been knocked over, but Carver didn’t budge in the slightest, just caught her and held her tight, and that in itself was confirmation that he was here and she couldn’t help a sob of sheer happiness and relief. She’d forgotten how big he was, her bear of a brother. She’d forgotten how much she missed him.

Boy came eagerly over to them both, covered in blood, but unhurt, and butted his head against Carver and they both laughed. Carver eased her gently back to the floor and scratched the mabari behind his ears. “Good dog. You took care of her, didn’t you?”

Boy gave a bark of agreement. Carver gave him one last scratch and then moved away to examine one of the bodies.

Lunging at Carver like that had made her even more dizzy. “What are you doing here?” She asked, trying to concentrate. What the Void had been on that cloth? Her jaw was throbbing painfully, as was her hand where she’d sliced it open when she’d grabbed the dagger from one of her assailants. 

“I was attacked at the Warden Keep in Ansburg.” Carver said, moving on to the next body. “They were shouting something about ‘the blood of the Hawke’. I figured if they were going for Hawkes you might be next on the list.”

“These dwarves were yelling the same.” Said Sebastian. He was leaning against the door frame for support, looking slightly grey beneath his tan.

_Sebastian_. Anabel made a small noise and scrambled to her feet, running to his side, and burying her face against his bare chest. Just the feel and scent of him made her feel steadier.

His arms went around her, and he offered a silent prayer of thanks that Carver had arrived when he did. “Are you hurt?” He asked, pulling back and looking at her. His face darkened when he saw the bruise on her face and remembering how she’d grabbed the dagger by the blade he lifted her hand and opened it and she drew in a sharp breath at the movement. There were gashes on both the heel of her hand and across her fingers. His mouth formed a thin line. “You’ve no other injuries?” 

She shook her head.

“You’re certain?” He asked.

She couldn't help laughing. “No, truly. I’m fine. What about you? Your head…when they hit you, I thought…” She buried her face in his chest again, needing to feel his heartbeat and the warmth of his skin. 

“I’m all right, Ana. We’re both all right.” He needed to hear it as much as she did, he realized. Her injuries were minor, his head was throbbing painfully, but they were all right, both of them. He gently rubbed her back and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. He glanced up found Carver had gotten to his feet and was glowering angrily at him. 

“Your arrival was most fortuitous, Carver.” Sebastian told him over the top of Anabel’s head. 

“Right. Who the Void are you, and what the fuck are you doing here?” Carver snarled. Anabel was positively nestled against the man’s bare chest, wearing some lacy pink thing that looked better suited to the Blooming Rose than something his sister should be wearing.

Anabel turned to give him a puzzled look, though she didn’t move out of the protective circle of Sebastian’s arms. “Don’t be ridiculous Carver.” She said with a small frown, wondering why he was suddenly so pissy. “You know Sebastian.” 

Carver's eyes widened as he realized who the man was. “The priest?” He recognized him now, but seeing him like this -- bare chested, hair rumpled and arms wrapped around his sister's scantily clad form -- he’d never seen anyone who looked less like a priest. His scowl deepened. “What the fuck’s he doing here half dressed in the middle of the night?” He demanded.

His sister just blinked at him. “Didn’t you get any of my letters? I assumed you didn’t get the invitation, but I thought at least one of my letters would have reached you.” 

“What letters?” He asked, not taking his eyes from Sebastian. The man had been almost constantly around when he’d been here last Solstice but he had thought that was just Chantry stuff, taking care of the sick and all. Watching the way the man’s hand was stroking his sister’s back, it occurred to him it might have had very little to do with the Chantry. Maker's ass, she was hopeless when it came to men, he thought, trying to decide which was worse, the possessed mage or the priest. “What invitation? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Anabel just raised an eyebrow. “Being in the Wardens hasn’t improved you a bit, has it? Still the same charmer you always were.” She commented dryly. “I can’t believe didn’t get any of them. Honestly you’d think an organization that had been around as long as the Grey Wardens would have mastered some reliable means of forwarding mail to their members. Or did that disappear with the griffons?”

“Anabel…”said Carver, clearly frustrated.

“Your sister and I are married, Carver.” Sebastian explained. 

“Married?” Carver looked back and forth between the two of them. Anabel reached up and took the man’s hand in hers, and Carver saw the rings they both wore. His sister was married. That couldn’t be right. “I thought you were a priest.” He said accusingly, looking back at Sebastian. 

“He is.” Said Anabel.

That made even less sense. “So how the Void can you be married to him?” 

Before either of them could answer, there was the sound of footsteps, of more people rushing up through the kitchens. 

Carver grabbed his sword, and Anabel ducked down to lunge for the dagger she’d dropped, but then they heard Anders shouting her name and he rushed through the doorway, followed close behind by Fenris and Isabela, their weapons drawn. All three stopped short at the sight of the corpses strewn about the room. 

“We’re all right.” Anabel assured them, dropping the dagger to the ground and carefully flexing her hand which had started bleeding again. She blotted it with her nightgown.

“Redecorating?” Asked Isabela, with a raised eyebrow. 

Anabel gave her a weary smile. “Just getting a bit of late night exercise. Helps me sleep better.”

Isabela’s eyes flickered to Sebastian’s bare chest and back to her. “Oh, Kitten, I can recommend of a different sort of late night exercise that you’d enjoy much more.” She said with a leer, grinning when Hawke gave a tired laugh. he looked past the girl and her eyes widened when she realized who it was standing there behind her. “Carver?”

Carver gave her a slow, easy smile that absolutely made her toes curl. “Isabela.”

For a moment she could only blink at him. The puppy had grown up. Oh, that had all sorts of possibilities.

 

Fenris went to the Keep to fetch Aveline and the guard, and Anders began healing everyone who had been hurt. 

The most severely injured was Bodahn, who’d taken a sword thrust to his side when the dwarves had first burst into the kitchen through the garden, as it turned out. Sandal had done something to drive them back (‘boom’ was all he would say, when Anabel asked him just what) and he and Orana had dragged Bodahn into the storage room that held the entrance to the Undercity, and barricaded the door. It had been Orana who had climbed down and pounded on the clinic door until the others had heard her. She had still been tearful and trembling when Hawke hugged her and kissed her cheek, thanking her for being so brave. 

Anders healed and bandaged Bodahn, giving him several potions and left him with Orana tending him, and Sandal sitting fretfully at the foot of the bed, watching his father and reaching out periodically to stroke his hand. 

By the time he returned to the main part of the mansion carrying hot water and some rags to clean up Hawke’s hand, Fenris had returned from the Keep and guardsmen were busy moving the bodies out. Aveline and Donnic were both there, Donnic was directing the guards, and Aveline was stalking back and forth in front of the fireplace, hearing the story of what had happened.

Hawke was curled up on the sofa beside Sebastian, her feet tucked beneath her, leaning against him. Much to Anders’ relief both of them were more clothed than they had been earlier. He knew the marriage was still a celibate one; Hawke had admitted that to him with a small plaintive sigh just the other day. He knew they hadn’t been together when the Carta had attacked, but still, the sight of them standing there half-clothed like that had been… disconcerting.

As attractive a couple as they were when fully clothed, and even he couldn’t deny that they were, they were even more stunning partially dressed. He’d been surprised, and Justice downright appalled, by the erotic images that had filled his mind at the sight of them, not only of Hawke for once, but of Hawke and Sebastian, the both of them together. Even now, when Hawke had slipped a robe on over that lacy nightdress that had somehow managed to be enticing even covered in blood stains, and Sebastian had pulled on a shirt, though he hadn’t bothered to fasten it, Anders still found himself picturing the two of them together, and Andraste help him, he couldn’t help but be aroused by it. The first time he’d seen Sebastian he’d found him attractive; he supposed it made a sort of masochistic sense that the idea of the both of them together would be even more arousing.

Maker, he was pathetic, he thought, as he crossed the room.

Hawke was resting her head against Sebastian’s shoulder and her hand lay on his chest, her fingers lightly tracing small patterns there. Anders didn’t think she was even aware she was doing it. She’d always been a tactile person; a vow of celibacy wasn’t going to change that about her. More surprising, however was that Sebastian had his arm around her and his hand tangled in her hair, idly running the bright strands between his fingers, as he answered Aveline's questions, as if he couldn’t keep from touching her either. Anders hadn’t seen that from the man since before the whole chaste marriage farce.

He still didn’t understand how the two of them were able to do it, be this close, every day, every evening, every night and still manage to keep to that ridiculous vow. 

“So now the Carta’s breaking into mansions in Hightown?” Aveline was commenting. “Let’s hope this isn’t a trend.” She turned to Hawke. “What did you do to piss them off this time?” 

“I can’t think of anything I did to make them angry. Not before our little encounter in Darktown earlier today anyway, and they started that one.” Hawke insisted. She turned her head as she spoke, and saw Anders. “How’s Bodahn?” She asked anxiously, straightening up and letting her feet slide to the floor.

“He’ll be fine.” Anders assured her. “He’ll need to rest for a few days.” His healing magic was never quite as effective on dwarves, but luckily they seemed to have the constitution and stamina to make up for the deficiencies. “You’re next.” He informed her. 

“No.” She shook her head. “Do Sebastian first. He got his head bashed with the hilt of a sword.” 

“I’m not the one still bleeding, Anabel.” Sebastian said. “You’re going first.”

She frowned at him. “It’s just my hand, and it’s hardly bleeding at all anymore. And I wasn’t the one who fell flat on my face, unconscious.”

“I was never unconscious, and I suspect the only reason that you didn’t fall on your face was you were being carried off at the time.” He retorted before looking over at Anders. “They were pressing a rag soaked in some sort of poison to her face in order to subdue her.” He informed him. “She goes first.”

“I’m barely dizzy anymore and I don’t feel at all nauseous.” She insisted. “I’m fine. Your head is still throbbing, I can tell just from looking at you.” She turned to Anders. “He’s too stubborn to admit it but it is.”

“Andraste’s Ass.” Muttered Anders. “You two really are perfect for each other.” He put down the water and the rags and took Hawke’s hand, sending out a brief pulse of his magic. For once her injuries were actually as superficial as she claimed – just the cuts on her hand, and the bruise on her jaw. The traces of the poison the dwarves had used should dissipate by morning, even without his help. 

He turned to do the same to Sebastian and it occurred to him that he’d never used his magic to heal the prince: the few injuries the man had sustained while with them had been minor and easily dealt with by potions. He hesitated. “May I?” He asked holding up his hands.

Sebastian looked surprised at the question, but he inclined his head in assent. “Of course.” 

“How come he gets asked and you just barge straight at me?” Hawke demanded. 

Anders had moved between them. “Because he’s sensible enough to admit when he’s been injured.” He put his hands gently on the back of Sebastian’s skull. His hair was thick, and softer than Anders had thought it would be and a brief image of Hawke’s slender fingers running through it flashed through his mind before he could stop it. He forced himself to concentrate on the man’s injuries. There was some blood matted in his hair, but the egg sized bump was of more concern. He sent out a small pulse of magic. When it died down Anders stared at him with a small perplexed frown on his face.

“What is it?” Anabel asked anxiously. 

“Nothing.” Anders said automatically, but the frown remained for a moment longer. “Congratulations, Your Highness, you win.” He said finally. “Not quite a concussion but pretty damned close. Obviously you’ve been taking lessons from your wife.”

Hawke rounded on Sebastian with an angry glare. “I knew it! I knew it was worse than you were saying. You couldn’t just admit it, could you? You have to be noble and selfless, and so bloody stubborn, insisting you’re fine and everyone else should be taken care of first. It’s infuriating.” She turned back to Anders and found he and every other of her companions were staring at her, some (Isabela and Anders) with indulgent smiles, some (Carver and Fenris and Aveline) with frowns. “What?” She asked, not understanding either of the looks.

“Pot meet kettle.” Said Anders, shaking his head. “Move.” He told her. “I need to sit next to him.” 

She rose reluctantly and moved to Sebastian’s other side, reaching down to take his hand as Anders sat beside him. Anders leaned down and dipped one of the cloths in water, “Bend your head forward.” He told Sebastian, and when he had, he began gently cleaning the cut. 

Sebastian didn’t wince, but his hand tightened on Anabel's when Anders brushed against a particularly sore spot.

“You’re hurting him.” Anabel protested. 

“He’s fine.” Anders told her, not even bothering to look away from what he was doing. 

“I’m all right, Ana.” Sebastian reassured her.

She frowned again when she saw the water turn pink as Anders rinsed the cloth he’d been using. “He’s bleeding. Why is he bleeding? You said you weren’t bleeding.” She said accusingly to Sebastian. 

“I’m fine, Ana.” He told her.

“You’re not fine, you’re bleeding!” She could hear the panic in her voice, and knew it was unreasonable, but she couldn’t seem to stop it. She didn’t like Sebastian’s being injured. She didn’t like it at all.

“Hawke.” Anders interrupted. “I need you to go stand over there by Isabela.”

“Why?” She asked with a frown.

“Because you’re annoying me.” 

She scowled at him and then looked down when Sebastian squeezed her hand gently. He smiled up at her. “Go on. I’m fine, truly.” 

She reluctantly withdrew her hand and walked over to the desk where Isabela was lounging.

“So now you’re being attack by batty dwarven assassins. You do attract the strangest types.” Isabela commented.

“Mmm.” Hawke agreed, watching Anders work. “Like lust addled pirates. Don’t think I didn’t see the look you gave Carver before”

Isabela laughed. “Touché.” Her eyes went to Carver who was standing by the entrance chatting with Brennan, whom he’d managed to reduce to blushes and giggles, both of which looked equally incongruous with the plate armor the woman wore. “He has filled out nicely hasn’t he? Just yummy.” 

Anabel looked over at her brother and couldn’t help smiling. He’d always been good looking but he had a confidence that he’d lacked when he’d lived in Kirkwall. She’d caught glimpses of when he’d been here last Solstice but he positively radiated it now. Still, she thought looking back at Isabela with a worried frown. “Fenris.” She said simply.

“Yes, he’s rather nice as well.” Isabela agreed.

“Izzy.” Hawke warned. 

“What?” She looked over and saw the expression on Hawke's face. “Oh Kitten, you worry too much.”

“Hawke.” Anders called from the other side of the room. “Your turn.”

She quickly crossed the room. “He’s all right?” She asked, reaching for Sebastian’s hand again. 

“He’s fine.” Said Anders. “He should take it easy for a day or so, but unlike you I think he’ll actually listen to my advice. Let me see your hand.” 

She thrust her hand towards him without turning from Sebastian. 

Anders took it and let his magic flow into her, finding that familiar warm glow that was so uniquely hers. The feel of it, of her, was as comforting as it had always been.

Healing Sebastian hadn’t felt comforting. There was something about it that had left him feeling vaguely uneasy and he couldn’t think why that was. Something about it had felt naggingly familiar, had pricked at his memory, but he couldn’t quite pin down just what it was.

Everyone felt different to him when he healed them. Hawke felt like glowing embers on a cold winter night. He’d thought that from the very first time he'd healed her up on Sundermount, and he still thought it. Glowing embers, so warm and bright that you wanted to curl up next to her just to be able to bask in that glow. Few people felt so warm. Fenris, for example, felt slick and cool and as hard and unyielding as glass, and most of the time as sharp and jagged as well, even when he wasn’t physically injured. 

Sebastian had felt as warm as Hawke, but in a different way. If Hawke’s was a heat that welcomed and comforted. Sebastian’s was a stronger heat; the kind that offered shelter from the darkness, but one that drove it back and shut it out as well. It wasn't dangerous, not exactly. It... protected somehow, offered a sanctuary from all the things that the darkness hid. 

_Sanctuary…_

Something about the word teased at his memory once again before it slipped away, frustrating him once more. 

Was that what Hawke found in Sebastian? A sanctuary? Was that his appeal? 

He smoothed his hands over Hawke’s now unmarked palm and let it go before reaching and taking hold of her chin, turning her face to the light to get a better look at the bruise on her jaw. He frowned at the sight of it. “Fist?” He asked.

“Mmm.” She agreed.

A fist wearing a gauntlet, Anders realized. “You’re usually too fast for that.” He commented. 

“I was asleep in bed. It’s hard to dodge when you’re barely conscious.” She said matter of factly.

“They were in your bedroom?” He and Sebastian spoke the words at the same time, and it was difficult to say which of them sounded more horrified. 

She raised an eyebrow at the reaction. “It’s not like I invited them in, you know.” She said. 

Anders scowled and Sebastian’s hand tightened on hers as Anders finished healing her without another word. 

It was almost dawn by the time last of the bodies was removed. Isabela and Fenris returned to Lowtown with a promise to fill Varric in on all that he had missed and to return the next day. Aveline, Donnic and the guardsmen left, and Anders returned to his clinic using the basement entrance.

Carver looked at his sister and her husband, still hand in hand. They’d barely moved away from each other the whole night. His sister and her husband. He still couldn’t quite believe it. “I’ll take Mother’s old room again, I guess. Is it made up?” 

Anabel and Sebastian exchanged a look he didn’t understand. 

“Actually it’s Sebastian’s room now.” Said Anabel, not quite able to meet his eye. 

Carver looked back and forth between the two of them. “You sleep in separate bedrooms?” He asked just to be sure he understood what she'd just said.

“It’s a chaste marriage.” Anabel said, still not looking at him. Sebastian slipped an arm around her waist and moved even closer to her.

Carver just stared at them both. “Right. What the fuck does that mean?”

Anabel glared up at him. “What the fuck do you think it means?” She said defensively. “I told you he was a priest. We’re married, we just don’t….” Her voice trailed off.

“Just don’t….” Carver prompted.

Her nostrils flared in annoyance. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? Fine. We don’t have sex, all right?”

Carver’s eyes turned to Sebastian. “You married my sister, but you don’t have sex with her.” He said flatly.

Sebastian forced himself to meet the man’s gaze without flinching. “Anabel knew I wanted to remain a priest. We compromised.”

Carver gave a small snort. “Right. It sounds to me like she’s the one who did all the compromising. What exactly did you lose in this arrangement?” 

Anabel pulled her hand free of Sebastian’s and shoved her brother hard with both hands. “He has to be related to you, you ass. Come on. Help me make up one of the other bedrooms. I don’t want to bother Orana.” She gave him a pointed glare until he rolled his eyes and followed her up the stairs. Boy, who hadn’t left Carver’s side all evening, trailed close behind them. 

Sebastian watched them, wondering what would be said on the subject, wanting to follow them to find out, but he forced himself to go and check on Bodahn and Sandal and Orana. When he’d done that he walked through the ground floor, making sure both the garden and the front doors were securely locked, vowing that they would be locked from now on, no matter how much Anabel complained about having to keep track of a key. Those deranged dwarves had made it to her bedroom without either of them waking. He didn’t want to think of what might have happened to her.

Having completed that task, he went upstairs. Carver and Anabel should have had enough time to discuss the details of the marriage by now. Light was coming from one of the spare bedrooms, and Sebastian could hear them talking.

“We’ve got the sheet the wrong way around.” Anabel was saying.

“What’s the point of all those servants if you have to make the bed yourself?” He heard Carver grumble.

“Andraste’s Ass, you would have been unbearable as a noble.” Anabel commented. “Pass me a pillow case.”

There was a pause and then Carver spoke again. “Look, I’m not saying he’s a bad guy. I actually kind of liked him last time I was here, but...”

Sebastian heard Anabel sigh. “Carver, give it a rest.”

“Why a chaste marriage? I just don’t get it.”

“Well I don’t know how else to explain it. I could try again using very small words this time if you like.”

“Jerk.” Caver said, but there was no heat in the word.

“Jackass.” She retorted immediately. Her tone was almost affectionate. Sebastian wondered what it would have been like to have had a relationship like that with his own brothers. Even after he became a priest they’d never been close. He stopped, waiting to hear if they would say anything else. Eavesdropping was rapidly becoming one of his vices. 

“What about kids?” Carver asked abruptly.

This time Anabel didn’t answer.

“You used to talk about kids all the time, even when we were little.” Carver persisted.

“Yes, I did.” She admitted so softly that Sebastian barely heard her.

Sebastian closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wall, feeling the increasingly familiar guilt flooding through him. She’d talked vaguely about children once or twice in the time he’d known her, but he hadn’t realized that it had been something she’d always wanted and always talked about. She hadn’t said that when they'd discussed it earlier, and he realized now she had deliberately not said it, in order to spare his feelings. 

“So?” Carver prompted, when Anabel didn’t say anything.

“So, you don’t always get everything you want.” She answered finally, and her voice was stronger now. “You should know that better than most people, Carver. This, being with Sebastian, being married to him, getting to spend the rest of my life with him is so much more than I ever hoped for, than I ever thought I’d have. It’s enough for me.” She said simply.

“It shouldn’t be.” Carver said harshly.

“Well it is.” She said angrily. For the first time she sounded close to tears.

Carver must have noticed it as well because when he spoke again his voice was gentler. “I guess the Amell line ends with us then.” 

“I suppose it does.” She agreed, her voice low. 

What on Thedas was he doing lurking out here eavesdropping, when he should be in there, beside her while she dealt with Carver’s almost brutally intrusive question? He straightened up and forced a pleasant smile on his face before he walked into the room, pretending not to notice Carver’s scowl or Anabel’s quick swipe at her eyes. “Bodahn’s resting well. Do you two need any help in here?”

Carver threw the pillow he was holding onto the bed with slightly more force than was necessary. “No.” 

Sebastian ignored it and crossed to Anabel’s side, sliding an arm around her waist. “Then we’ll bid you good night, Carver.” 

Carver muttered something under his breath that might have been good night, and Sebastian ushered his wife from the room. 

“You heard all of that didn’t you?” She asked when they were out of earshot.

“Some of it.” He admitted. 

She sighed. “He doesn't quite get it. He will eventually.” Sebastian opened his mouth to speak and she interrupted before he could say anything. “If you apologize to me again I will start screaming.” She warned him. 

He couldn’t help smiling. “You know me too well.” 

She returned the smile. “Yes. I do.” They’d come to her room, and she stopped and reached up to straighten the collar of his shirt. “I meant what I said to Carver. I have what I need. I have you.” 

He caught her hand and kissed it and she let herself lean against him. 

“We should get some rest.” She said reluctantly. “Who knows what Varric will find out and what we’ll have to deal with tomorrow.” She pulled away from him and pushed the door to her bedroom open. 

The room was a mess. The bedding was torn off the bed; pieces of furniture were knocked over. Anabel shivered suddenly, flashing back to that moment of complete terror when she’d sensed someone there, but before she’d even been able to open her eyes completely, a fist had slammed into her jaw and she been dragged from the bed. She felt Sebastian’s arms slip around her from behind, holding her close and the fear receded. “I’m going to sleep on the sofa in the library, I think. I don’t think I can sleep in here, not tonight.”

His arms tightened around her. It was so unlike her to admit to any fear. “Sleep in my room tonight.” He told her. “I’ll sleep downstairs.”

She shook her head. “No. You wouldn’t even fit on the couch and you’ve been injured. You need the rest far more than I. I’ll be fine down there.” 

“You need the rest as well.” He insisted. But seeing her bedroom like this had made him realize he wanted her close by him tonight, far closer than downstairs in the library. He hesitated for only a second. “We could share my bed.” He suggested.

She turned her head and stared at him. Maker, she wanted that. She wanted to be held and be safe and most of all she didn’t want to be away from him. But sharing the bed….”Would that be wise?” She asked finally. 

Sebastian turned her so she was facing him and reached out and cradled her face in his hand, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “Anabel, I had to lie there on that floor, unable to move, unable to stop them, thinking I would have to watch you be carried off by the Carta or whomever those dwarves were. I don’t want you out of my sight right now. I want to know that you’re safe. I want to be able to reach out and touch you if I wake up, to be able to reassure myself that they didn’t. My physical desire for you has nothing to do with why I want you in my bed tonight.” 

She buried her face in his chest and her arms went around his waist.

He stroked her hair gently. “Do you think I’m mad to even consider it?” He asked.

She shook her head without lifting it. “No. I’m tired, and scared and I can’t think of anything I want more than to be next to you. You’re right, it’s not anything carnal right now. It may or may not be wise, but I can’t seem to care.” She looked up at him, and her normally laughing eyes were solemn. “Yes." She said. "I want to share your bed tonight.”

He nodded slowly. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

She went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Let me change into something not blood stained.” She grabbed something out of one of the wardrobesbefore dashing into her bathing chamber. In no time at all she was back, in as demure a nightgown as he had ever seen her wear: white cotton, delicately gathered beneath the breast with a pink ribbon, with a modest neckline and small puffed sleeves. Her hair was in a braid down her back, tied with another pink ribbon.

He couldn’t help smiling. “You look about twelve years old. I didn’t know you even owned such proper sleeping attire.”

He caught a glimpse of her dimple. “I’m a woman of varied tastes when it comes to night clothes. It’s one of my indulgences.” She informed him slipping into the robe she’d had on before.

Having lived with her for three months, it was something he was all too aware of. He held out his hand to her. “Come. Let’s get some sleep.” 

There was an awkward moment when they walked into his room. Both of them stared at the bed. 

“Do you have a particular side you like?” She asked, wondering why her cheeks were suddenly hot.

“Not really.” It had been an unexpected pleasure just sleeping in a bed that wasn’t narrow and ever so slightly too short for him. “Do you?” It seemed a strange question to be asking your wife of three months.

“I seem to migrate all over the ancestral bed.” She admitted. “When I used to share with Bethany I was always on the left side.”

“I’ll take the right then.” He began to extinguish the lights as she shrugged out of the robe and climbed under the covers. When he’d finished he hesitated for a moment before taking off the shirt he wore. He placed it on the back of the chair and got in on the right side, extinguishing the remaining lamp before lying down beside her. For a moment they both lay there stiffly, staring up at the ceiling.

“All right this is strange.” Anabel said after a moment still staring straight above her. “Why is this strange? We’ve slept next to each other before.”

He shifted to his side to look at her. “Only accidentally, or when we’ve camped overnight. In some ways sharing a bed with someone, just sleeping beside them, is more intimate than making love.”

She turned her head on the pillow. “Is it?”

“For me it was.” Sebastian said. “Even when my behavior was at its most shameful, even when I never went to my bed alone, I rarely let anyone spend the night beside me.”

“Rarely?” She asked.

“Occasionally I passed out before I could send them away.” 

“That’s horrible.” She said, frowning.

“I agree.” 

“It doesn’t sound like you at all.”

“I’ve changed since then. I hope.” He added, suddenly thinking of the lies he’d told recently. He heard Carver’s words again. _It sounds to me like she’s the one who did all the compromising._ Anders had called him a selfish bastard for binding her to him like this. Were they both right? Was he becoming that man again, the one who used people for his own selfish satisfaction, no matter what the cost to them?

“Of course you’ve changed.” Anabel said, without hesitation. 

“Yes.” He agreed reluctantly. He wasn't so certain these days.

She could hear the doubt in his voice, and tried to turn to face him, to reassure him, but the bed was so precisely made, the sheets tucked in so ruthlessly, that it was difficult. “How do you sleep with everything so tight?” She complained. “I can’t even move.” Without waiting for an answer, she kicked her feet against the sheet, tugging and pulling until they were almost entirely untucked on her side. She flopped happily onto her side and grinned at him. “Much better.”

He gave her an indulgent smile. “You’re as unruly in your sleeping habits as in everything else.”

“Oh, yes” She agreed. “You probably should have inquired about that before you married me. Far too late to do anything about it now.” She said so unrepentantly that he couldn’t help laughing. 

He reached out suddenly, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back so she was spooned up against him. She was so much smaller that her head came to rest just under his chin. She fit perfectly there, he realized.

She sighed happily, feeling completely protected and safe like this. She took his hand that he had resting on her stomach in hers, letting her fingers slide between his. “This is nice.” She said softly.

He kissed the top of her head. “This is perfect.” He corrected. 

She relaxed against him and her eyes seemed to close of their own accord. Her last thought before she drifted off was that if this was all she ever got it was far more than enough. 

 

Sebastian woke to a small warm body pressed up against his back and someone pounding on his door. 

“Vael! She’s not in her bedroom.” Carver shouted through the door.

Anabel let out a disgruntled noise, and cuddled up closer against him, flinging an arm over his waist. He couldn’t help smiling at the sight of her small hand. He lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. Carver shouted his name again and Sebastian quickly slipped out of the bed and went to the door. He opened it just as Carver had lifted his hand to pound again.

“She’s here.” Sebastian told him. He held open the door so Carver could see Anabel on the bed, seemingly dead to the world.

Carver sagged in relief. “Maker. When she wasn’t in her room….” He frowned abruptly. “What the fuck’s she doing in your bed if you’ve got a celibate marriage?”

“Chaste marriage.” Sebastian corrected. “After what happened last night she was spooked by the idea of sleeping by herself.”

Carver glanced over to where Anabel was sprawled, her nightgown hiked up to mid-thigh, and then back to Sebastian, shirtless, with his hair rumpled, still wearing only sleeping trousers. “Right. I don’t know what sort of a game you’re playing with her but…”

“Go away, Carver.” Anabel mumbled.

“Why are you in his bed?” Carver demanded.

She half lifted her head, and hurled one of the pillows towards the door. It fell about five feet short of it. “I’ve taken up sleep walking as a hobby. I just wander into any old bedroom these days. Honestly, Sebastian just told you why.” She said dropping her head back onto the mattress.

Carver scowled but let it drop. “Varric’s here. He says he’s got some information.” He told her picking up the pillow and throwing it back at her. “And most of the others are here too.”

“Go away.” Anabel mumbled. "Sleeping."

“We’ll be down in a few minutes.” Sebastian promised.

Carver gave him one final glare and stalked away down the stairs.

Sebastian closed the door and walked back to the bed, kneeling down beside her. “Good Morning, Mistress Vael.” He said, brushing her curls back from her face. At some point in the night her braid must have come undone.

Her lips curved into a smile. “Good Morning.” She opened her eyes. “I slept wonderfully. Did you?”

“I did. You didn’t lie about not stealing the covers or snoring.”

“Oh, good." She said, sounding pleased. "I wasn’t certain about that, actually.” 

“You do however thrash about like a restless puppy and kick off all the covers.” He informed her.

She couldn't help laughing. “I am sorry. Was it awful?” She asked.

He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. “No. It was wonderful.” And it had been. Yes she’d been restless, more than a few times if he was honest, but as soon as he’d reached out to her she’d stilled and turned into his touch, nuzzling up against him and quieting immediately. Part of him wished they could sleep like that every night, but realistically he knew it wouldn’t be possible.

“It couldn’t have been, but thank you for lying about it.” She smiled suddenly. “We did it. We slept together all night without jumping each other’s bones.”

He couldn’t help smiling at the phrase she’d chosen. One of Isabela’s no doubt. “We did.” He agreed. He couldn’t be quite as pleased as she was, knowing full well that if he’d been slightly less tired, or if his head hadn’t ached as much as it had that resisting her would have been much more difficult. But even so, he’d been able to resist her for one night, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of that and strangely optimistic that they would work everything out. 

She pushed herself upright and stretched and a small frown came to her face. “What do you think Varric’s found out?” She asked.

He got to his feet. “If we’re lucky, that these dwarves weren’t members of the Carta at all, but some group that was acting independently from them.” 

“I suppose that would be easier to deal with than the whole of the Carta.” She agreed. “ _The blood of the Hawke_.” She murmured. “It sounds like blood magic, but what are dwarves doing messing around with any kind of magic, let alone blood magic?” Her mind was racing with questions now that she was more awake. “Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

“I agree.” Said Sebastian. 

“I suppose we should go see what Varric’s discovered, then.” She’d be perfectly happy to stay right where she was for the rest of the day. For longer than that, if she were perfectly honest. “I don’t want to leave your bed.” She told him.

He stroked the side of her face. “I don’t want you to. But…”

“Yes. But...” She said with a sigh, swinging her legs over the side and sliding to the floor. She went up on her toes and kissed his cheek, and before he could stop her she’d left his room.

It seemed far emptier than it should without her.

  


She made it downstairs before he did, and he found them all in the dining room. Food had been set out and Anabel was already nibbling on one of Orana’s pastries.

“So not the Carta.” She was saying to Varric. She was sitting sideways in one of the chairs, and smiled at Sebastian as he walked in.

“Not according to my sources.” Varric said. “This group seems to be holed up in the Vimmark Mountains.”

“The Vimmark Mountains? Wasn’t that where we brought Ketojan that time?” She asked Fenris. 

“It was.” Fenris agreed.

“This hideout’s further out, a few days outside of Kirkwall. That’s about all I could find out. But it’s strange…” Varric’s voice trailed off.

“Why strange?” Asked Sebastian had gotten himself some tea and moved to stand by Anabel's chair. 

Varric pointed to a spot on a map he had spread out on the table. “My sources say the hideout's here.” 

Anabel frowned. “There isn’t anything there.” No roads, no markers of any sort. “Am I being hopeless at maps?” She asked.

“No.” Varric assured her. “Whoever they are they shouldn’t be there. According to the map there isn’t even a there, there.” He shook his head. “It’s just a big blank spot on the map. This place is invisible.” 

“I don’t like it.” Said Aveline, shaking her head.

“You’ll like it less if they keep charging into Kirkwall trying to kill me.” Anabel pointed out.

Aveline frowned but didn’t say anything more.

“How desperate do these guys have to be to attack a Grey Warden stronghold and the Champion of Kirkwall in her bedroom? They should have known that would end badly for them.” Asked Carver.

Varric gave a short laugh. “A Hawke attracting obsessives with a poor grasp of consequences? Color me stunned.”

“Really?” Asked Merrill, sounding surprised. “It seems to happen all the time to Hawke.” She turned her huge green eyes to Carver. “Does it still happen to you too, Carver?”

“I think 'obsessives with a poor grasp of consequences' is pretty much the definition of darkspawn, Merrill.” Anabel pointed out.

“Oh. It is isn’t it?” She seemed pleased with the realization and Anabel turned back to Varric hiding a small smile.

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” Asked Carver. “We just need to stop them from trying to kill us.” 

“A fine point.” Said Varric seeming to shake himself free of whatever had been bothering him... “So you have a plan?” He asked Hawke.

She grinned at him. “Oh, I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. We’ll sit down and have tea and laugh about it.”

“You’re name is Hawke? I thought you said Locke.” Varric snickered at his own joke, and Hawke couldn’t help joining in.

Sebastian and Carver just stared at them both.

“You’re both still completely bonkers, aren’t you?” Asked Carver. 

“Mmmm…” Hawke agreed, reaching over and pinching his cheeks. “And you missed us didn’t you?” 

“Get off.” He said smacking her hand away. 

“Who will you bring with you?” Fenris asked. He sounded uncertain, and she saw him glance at Carver and realized he was uncertain what her brother's reappearance meant for their fighting partnership. 

“You, if you’re willing to come along and help me deal with mad blood obsessed dwarves.” She told him. They been partners for years, and Carver had learned to fight on his now. She wasn't even certain how successful their fighting together would be anymore. Both of their fighting styles had changed, she'd realized that when she'd seen Carver fighting last night.

A quick pleased smile flashed across Fenris' face and vanished almost immediately, replaced by a look of determination. “Yes.” He agreed. "Blood obsessed dwarves. Isabela is right. You do attract a strange kind of attention. And I though all dwarves did was drink."

"Hey now!" Warned Varric, sounding offended.

Fenris gave them another of his rare smiles. "And lie. Forgive the omission."

Varric grunted. "That's better. Who else gets to come to the party, Hawke?"

She looked around the room. Who else? Sebastian, of course. Anders for his combat skills as well as his healing abilities. Varric had all the information on the dwarves. She didn't think Carver would stay away even if she wanted him to. Her eyes went to Merrill. _The blood of the Hawke_. If blood magic was involved the Merrill should come along ... “You know what?” She said abruptly. “I have no idea why I always feel the need to limit the party to three or four. This time everyone gets to come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	17. The Brother and Sister Both

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole gang travels to the Vimmark Wasteland and Carver and Anabel discover they were actually expected.

“There it is.” Said Varric. “The Vimmark Wastelands.” 

The road, if you could call it that led down an incline from where they all stood. 

“Seems an appropriate name for it.” Hawke said. As far as one could see it was a dull dry brown: soil, rocks, the few dried out bushes that were scattered around. Even the air seemed pale and hazy. Not like a desert though: it looked as if the color and life had been simply sucked out of it somehow. Everything had a slightly faded feel about it. “We never go anywhere nice, do we?” She commented.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” Isabela grumbled. “We could be doing something fun right now. Playing cards. Getting drunk. Renewing old friendships.” She added, giving Carver a suggestive smile. He returned it with one of his own that made her wonder just what he had learned in the last three years and when she would get to find it out.

Anabel pretended she didn’t see the exchange. “I thought we’d try something new instead, like attacking deranged dwarves.” She couldn’t help glancing at Fenris to see what his reaction was. His face was impassive as always but with Fenris that could mean that he was entirely unaffected by it, or that he was furious and just concealing it.

“We just did that a few days ago.” Isabela reminded her. 

“They attacked us a few days ago.” Hawke corrected. “Now we get to attack them back.” 

Anders gave a small humorless laugh. “Interesting distinction, there.” 

She flashed him a quick smile. “But an important one.”

And he couldn’t help smiling back at her. “True enough.” Maker, he was pathetic. A smile and a request from her and he dropped everything to follow her out to quite literally the middle of nowhere. Justice had been buzzing angrily in the back of his head since they’d left Kirkwall, leaving Anders with both a dull headache and a nagging worry that the spirit was right, that something would happen when they were gone, that Meredith, who had been strangely quiet since the anniversary of the Qunari invasion, was planning something, luring the mages into a false sense of security, just waiting for them to make a careless move so that she could bring the full wrath of the Templars down upon them. Or maybe he was just being paranoid. He rubbed his head, as much to quiet Justice as to soothe the ache. The sooner they dealt with these dwarves, the sooner they could get back to Kirkwall. He looked back at Hawke. She was staring out at the Wasteland with a small frown on her face.

Anabel couldn’t have said what it was, if someone had asked her. There was no reason the landscape should be making her feel this uneasy, but it was. She felt Sebastian move up closer behind her and she leaned back against him as he did. Just that small contact made her feel better.

Merrill let out a happy sigh.

Hawke looked at her in surprise. “Don’t tell me you like it here, Merrill?”

Merrill seemed confused by the question. “Like it? No, it’s not very nice here at all is it?” She gave Hawke a puzzled look. “Why would you think I liked it?”

Anabel tried to hide her smile. “You made a happy noise.”

“Did I? I didn’t mean to. It’s just so nice seeing you and Sebastian together. The way you know the other one is there without even looking. It must be nice to be so connected to someone else. To love someone like that.”

Sebastian’s hands moved to rest on Anabel’s shoulders and she tilted her head back to look at him with a smile that took his breath away.

Everything Merrill had said was true. Anabel sometimes felt as if they didn’t give Merrill enough credit. Yes, her head might be in the clouds, and she might be a bit naïve but sometimes she saw things that the others missed entirely. It was good to know that at least one of her gang seemed to understand why she’d married Sebastian. “It is nice.” She agreed softly. “Better than anything I’ve known.” 

And in spite of the fact they were surrounded by every one of their companions, Sebastian couldn’t help leaning down and kissing her lips gently. 

She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of it. Sebastian had been far more physically affectionate since the night she’d almost been carried off, and coward that she was, she wasn’t questioning it. She’d missed his touches, even more than she realized. She had them back now and some small selfish part of her didn’t care why. She turned towards him, not breaking the kiss and bringing one hand up to rest against his chest. 

Sebastian slowly pulled back and she opened her eyes to find him watching her, his blue eyes seeming almost to glow as he looked at her. He reached up a hand to stroke her cheek and she couldn’t look away, not until she heard Carver give a small derisive snort. When she looked over at him he was scowling at Sebastian, something he’d been doing with increasing frequency since he’d arrived. She’d had just about enough of it. 

She opened her mouth to say something, when to her surprise, Sebastian spoke instead. “Is something troubling you, brother?” He asked, sliding a possessive arm around Anabel’s waist. She leaned her head against his chest waiting to see what Carver’s response would be. 

Carver’s eyes narrowed. “I'm not your brother.” He said flatly, reaching out to scratch Boy behind the ears when the mabari butted his head against him.

“I’m not familiar with Ferelden tradition, but I married your sister. I believe that makes us brothers.” Said Sebastian said in that same even voice. He could understand the man’s misgivings, but he was beginning to be a bit irritated by Carver’s almost constant glares. 

Carver snorted again. “Right. A ‘chaste’ marriage. You’re a placeholder at best.” He informed the Prince.

Anabel rolled her eyes. “Honestly Carver. Thank you for the vote of confidence. As always your faith in me is awe-inspiring.” 

“Honestly, Anabel.” He said mimicking her. “A chaste marriage.” He said again, his voice filled with scorn. He turned to Varric. “What does that even mean?”

Varric shrugged. “I don’t even pretend to understand it, Junior. We do have a bet going about how long it’ll last if you want to get in on it though.”

Hawke felt Sebastian’s arm tighten on her waist. Had he not known about the bet? Maker knew all of her friends joked about it enough. “You know, I’m a little disturbed by this fascination you all seem to have with my sex life.” She told them, putting her hand lightly over Sebastian’s and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“What sex life?” asked Carver scornfully, and she heard Anders give a grunt of agreement. 

She ignored Anders and gave her brother a withering glance. “Golly, Carver, would it make you feel better if I slept with him right here? If we just dropped to the ground and had at it? Because I totally would, you know. Just so you’d feel better about the decision.” She turned to Sebastian. “You’re okay with that, right? I mean, I’d have preferred a bed the first time, myself, but the ground looks fairly level here, so it should be all right.” She looked suddenly worried. “Of course if we rut about here on the ground it’s not really going to be a good vantage point for the rest of you, is it? Ideally, Sebastian and I should be raised up, so you all can see everything. If we could find some scraps of wood, or maybe a couple of crates, we could probably rig something together, some sort of platform or something. You’d all help with that, right?” She turned back to Sebastian. ”Or maybe we could do it standing up? People do that, right? We could make that work, couldn’t we?” 

“You’d need something to lean against after a while.” Isabela contributed helpfully.

Carver shuddered. “Maker, Anabel, just … no.” He said, sounding so appalled that Varric started laughing. 

Even Sebastian couldn’t help smiling as he slipped his other arm around her waist.

She looked up at him with a mischievous grin. “Have I made my point, do you think?”

“Yes, love, rein it in.” He’d had no idea the others had been betting on when they’d breaking their vows. He didn’t know why it surprised him; he should have guessed they would do just that. Anabel had obviously known about it, and from her reaction just now, he suspected she’d been on the receiving end of more than a few jibes about it. He’d have to ask her about that later. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Carver watched them carefully. They were a striking couple, even he couldn’t fail to see that, and it was obvious that Anabel adored the man. He didn’t begin to understand the whole chaste marriage thing, but he could tell Sebastian felt the same way about her. Carver didn’t know what to make of them. 

And if they were chaste shouldn’t they not be, well, touching each other all the time? 

Anabel saw him watching her and stuck out her tongue at him. 

So much for the dignified princess, he thought shaking his head, but he couldn’t help grinning. “Are you ever going to grow up?”

“It hasn’t happened so far.” She said with a small shrug of her shoulders. She turned slightly and slipped her arms around Sebastian’s waist and the Prince looked down at her with a smile and smoothed her hair back.

Maker, his sister had married a prince, just like she’d said she was going to when they were little. How on Thedas had she pulled that one off?

Anabel’s face softened at his puzzled expression. “I'm happy, Carver.” She tried to explain. 

And she did seem to be. He didn’t understand how or why, but she was. Carver shook his head. “If this is what you want…”

She smiled at him. “It is. Now, play nice with your new brother while I go talk to Varric.” She slipped out of Sebastian’s arms and walked over to join Varric and Fenris. 

Both men watched her go before turning to look at each other.

Sebastian was the first to speak. “Thank you Carver. Your support means a lot to her.”

“I want her to be happy. I don’t understand it but this marriage makes her happy. For as long as this is what she wants I’ll support it.” He gave the man a pointed look. “The day that changes…” He started to say, but Sebastian cut him off.

“That day will never come.” Sebastian promised.

Carver stared at him for a moment and then held out his hand. “I won’t call you brother quite yet, but welcome to the family.” 

Anabel saw them out of the corner of her eye and didn’t bother to hide her smile as she turned to look out at this Wasteland again. 

The sun came out from behind a cloud and she had to lift her hand to shade her eyes. There was some sort of fort up ahead, as dusty, dilapidated and crumbling as everything else around them. “So that’s the hideout, then?” She asked Varric. “It doesn’t look terribly impressive.” 

Varric was frowning. “Yeah, that’s it. I couldn’t find out anything else about it. Just the location. It’s all very…strange.” It was a phrase he had been repeating since they’d first begun planning the trip. She hadn’t seen him this hesitant since they’d found the Primeval Thaig down in the Deep Roads all those years ago. 

She shivered suddenly. “Oh, I don’t know.” She said lightly, though it took some effort. “A group of lunatics attack us with no provocation whatsoever, and we blindly follow them out into the middle of nowhere without knowing why? It seems fairly typical of for us.” 

Varric laughed. “True enough. It’s been a while though.”

“It has.” She agreed. Other than the odd trip to the Wounded Coast and the Bone Pit, and that one overnight trip to Sundermount just before her birthday she hadn’t left Kirkwall in almost a year. She hadn’t wanted to. 

The others came up to join them and she looked around couldn’t help smiling. “But look what it’s accomplished: the whole gang together again. I like having us all here. We should do it more often.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “You wish to have to hunt down maniacs intent on killing you more often, in order to spend more time with your friends? One would think you could find a simpler, less life-threatening way to accomplish that.”

She just laughed. “Dinner parties are so last season.” 

Fenris shook his head but he was smiling.

“As grand as it is to be having this little reunion, I’d like to get back to Kirkwall as quickly as possible. Maker knows what the Knight Commander will try and pull if she realizes we’re all gone.” Aveline looked as if she was already having second thoughts about joining them. 

Even before she’d been made Guard Captain it had been rare for Aveline to tag along on an overnight trip. Anabel wasn’t even sure how she’d pulled it off now. “What do you even tell people you’re doing when you tag along with us?”

Aveline’s mouth curved into a small smile. “I’m on a ‘special investigation’.”

Anabel laughed. “And what does that make me?” She asked.

“Someone who’s assisting me with my investigation.”

“How generous of you, Hawke.” Said Fenris with a chuckle.

“I’m a giver.” She gave Aveline an admiring look. “It’s not even a lie, really. We are investigating, after all.”

They hadn’t noticed Anders moving up to join them. “It’s not the guard who are under the greatest threat from Meredith.” As if he’d been encouraged by Anders’ words, Justice started rumbling again in the back of his head, about duty to the mages, and injustice, and time wasted because of Hawke. It made his head throb even more and the unrelieved sunlight wasn’t helping. He felt a touch on his arm and looked down to find Hawke beside him. 

“We’ll deal with this as quickly as possible, I promise.” She told him. She could feel Justice swirling around, though she didn’t say that out loud. Her face softened as she looked at Anders. In the bright light he looked more worn out than she’d realized. “Thank you for coming along. I may not have said it but I do appreciate it."

The full force of those eyes looked up at him, and he couldn’t do anything but tell her the truth. “You know you only have to ask.”

“I know how lucky I am to have you as a friend.” She said with a smile. “Come on. Let’s go and see what these dwarves have to say for themselves, shall we? The sooner we deal with this the sooner we can head back home.” She squeezed his arm and without waiting for an answer, she headed down the path towards the fort.

The smell hit them all before they saw it: the remains of a dwarven caravan, the dwarves slaughtered, and left to lie where they had fallen. They’d obviously here for several days if the state of the bodies were any indication.

“Someone doesn’t like intruders.” Said Hawke grimly.

Varric was shaking his head. “These are Guild merchants. The Carta doesn’t kill Guild members.”

“So our visitors are something else then?” Asked Hawke.

Aveline had walked over and was examining some of the crates and boxes that lay broken and scattered around the wagons. “This makes no sense.” She muttered.

Sebastian came to her side. Most of the crates were still full of goods. “It wasn’t bandits.” He said.

She looked surprised that he’d figured it out. Sebastian liked Aveline well enough, but he always had the impression that his being nobility, and a prince at that, counted against him somehow in the Guard Captain’s mind. 

“No.” She agreed looking back at the crates. “If they’d been bandits nothing would have been left behind.”

“So they were killed just for being in the wrong place.” Commented Carver. “Something to remember as we head into this place.” He turned to see his sister smiling at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” But her smile broadened. Time was Carver would just have whined and complained about standing around and been demanding to know why they weren’t just killing things. “Being a Warden has been good for you. And not just because the uniform brings out the color of your eyes.” She said reaching up and pinching his cheek.

He swatted her hand away. “Get off.” 

She grinned and reached up to do it again, but stopped suddenly, turning her head toward the fort. “Did you hear that?” 

“Hear what?” Carver asked. 

She held up her hand for silence. 

The words drifted over to them. “It’s the Hawke! She’s here.”

“Were they expecting us?” Merrill asked in surprise. 

“The Hawke!” 

Hawke could see him now, a dwarf scrambling down the road towards the fort, still calling out. “She’s here!”

“He’ll alert others.’ Fenris shouted, running after him. Anabel followed close behind.

“The time has come! Glory!” 

They chased after the dwarf, saw him meet up with two others and continue down to where the path cut between two rock formations forming a narrow passage.

Hawke and Fenris were the first to reach the passage and both of them slowed when they realized the three dwarves had stopped running and were waiting at the far end where it opened up again, just outside the fortress. Hawke could see more dwarves up on the rampart. They waited for the others to catch and then they moved as a group towards the waiting dwarves. The one who had been yelling was pacing anxiously back and forth.

Anabel frowned as they got closer to them. She turned to gesture to Carver. “Look at their eyes.” She said softly when he was beside her.

Carver looked. Their eyes had a strange almost silvery haze, like a film over the pupil. 

“It looks the way your eyes did, and Wesley’s when…” She glanced over. Aveline was deliberately not looking at the dwarves’ eyes: so she’d seen it too. “Not exactly. It’s almost like it’s less, like the effect’s been diluted.” She looked up at her brother. “That doesn’t make sense. You can’t be ‘lightly’ tainted, can you?”

They turned together to look at the dwarf again, moving slowly closer to him. 

The dwarf’s eyes were focused on Anabel and she could hear him muttering. “The Hawke, the Hawke is here.” He glanced up at Carver and his mouth dropped open when he saw his eyes. He looked back and forth between the two of them, becoming even more agitated. “The brother and sister both.” He said gesturing wildly. “You’re finally here, together, you’ve come, both of you.” 

Carver looked down at her in confusion. “Is he talking about us?”

The dwarf called to his companions. “Everyone! It’s the children of Malcolm Hawke! They’ve come to us at last!”

Anabel froze at his words. “What does my father have to do with this?” She demanded, unable to keep the apprehension from her voice.

The dwarf seemed surprised she would need to ask. “It began with him, and ends with you.” He said, as if that somehow explained it. “Blood for blood, that’s what He told us. We need the blood. Malcolm Hawke’s blood. And you’ve come to us now! You’re here! That’s the only thing that matters.”

Anabel’s heart sank. Da and blood. Again.

Carver turned to her in confusion. “Did Da cross the Carta somehow?” He asked. 

She couldn’t answer.

“We need the blood. ” The dwarf said, frantic now. “The blood of the Hawke. Corypheus demands it!”

It was easy enough to turn her fear and dread to anger. “Oh, sure -- blood. Well, why didn’t you just ask me? How about a kidney as well?” She said scornfully. “Your invitation was so generous, breaking into my home in the middle of the night. How could I say no?” Maker, what if the blood magic Da had done to her hadn’t been the exception? What if Malcolm Hawke had been doing blood magic all along and had only stopped after…. 

She didn’t want to find that out. “Sorry.” She told the dwarf coldly. “Our blood’s staying right where it is. What do you have to say to that?” 

“Hawke…” She heard Aveline caution her. 

She didn’t listen. If Da had been a blood mage, a real blood mage, she didn’t want to know about it. “Sorry.” She repeated with a taunting smile. “Whoever this Corypheus is, you and he are both going to have to learn to live with disappointment.”

As she’d intended, her words enraged the dwarf. She drew her weapons as he started shouting. 

“He needs the blood! He will rise! Corypheus will walk in the sun!” He charged forward and toppled to the ground, one of Sebastian’s arrows protruding from his eye.

Anabel looked over her shoulder and found Sebastian was frowning at her. She ignored it, turning around and running after the remaining dwarves who had fled towards the fort. She could hear the others behind her as they ran down the incline and through a gate. There were perhaps two dozen dwarves waiting for them, some up on the ramparts, some on the ground, and rather surprisingly, an enormous bronto as well, something Anabel had only ever read about. The beast came charging straight at her, as if it knew she was leading the group, and if she’d been any less nimble it would probably have plowed right into her, but she managed to evade it. 

The next few minutes were chaotic to say the least. Carver went charging past her at one group. Spells from Merrill and Anders were flaring all around her. She started towards another group who were suddenly obscured by one of Isabela’s flasks smashing to the ground. Sebastian and Varric were firing at the dwarves on the ramparts. She and Fenris together took out the remaining group. 

The whole fight was over surprisingly quickly due simply to the size of their party. 

She straightened up as the last of the dwarves fell. “Is everyone all right?” She called out. 

They all were. 

She gave Fenris a pleased grin as she caught her breath. “I think I’m beginning to understand that whole ‘safety in numbers’ thing everyone’s always going on about.”

He nodded. “Such a large group is less than subtle, but it is effective.” 

“Mmm.” She agreed, walking over to a large wooden gate that seemed to lead farther in to the fortress. It was locked. 

Carver walked up beside them with a perplexed frown on his face. “What the Void was that back there?”

She rattled the gate, pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about. “It’s called fighting, brother. They must have something like it in the Wardens.” 

“You were deliberately provoking him, trying to make him attack. What happened to finding out why they were attacking us?”

“I don’t care why they’re attacking us. I just want it done.” She shook the gate one last time and then stepped back. “I’m not sure how difficult this lock is going to be to pick. Let’s check these fine gentlemen’s pockets.” She called out. “Maybe one of them has a key.” She started to move away, but was stopped by Carver’s hand on her arm.

“Didn’t you hear them? They’re after us for our blood, and you don’t want to know why?” He demanded.

She hesitated for just a second before saying. “Crazy people like blood, Carver. A lot.” She didn’t meet his eye. When she tried to pull her arm free he tightened his hold. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” He asked her. He knew her well enough to know she was keeping something back.

She looked up at him, fighting to keep her expression neutral: she wasn’t going to tell Carver that Da had done blood magic, not if she could help it. “Oh, all sorts of things.” She said nonchalantly. “For instance, when and man and a woman love each other very much…”

He made a disgusted noise. “You still make everything a joke. You’re never going to change are you?”

“Not if I can help it.” She said feigning a nonchalance she was far from feeling. 

Carver gave her an exasperated look and stalked away to help the others with looking for the key.

Anabel caught her lip between her teeth. She knew Carver wouldn’t be put off for long about this. 

Sebastian walked up beside her looking grim and she gave him a hesitant smile.

He didn’t smile back. “You’re all right?” He asked carefully.

“Of course.” 

“Was it necessary to provoke the dwarf like that?” His tone was mild, but the expression in his eyes was anything but. 

She had to look away. “I wanted the fight over. He wasn’t saying anything we needed to hear.”

“Not even who this Corypheus might be?”

She shot him a look, and sighed before looking over at Carver and the others. “Corypheus.” She repeated. “You just know with a name like that he’s bound to go ‘mwa ha ha’ at some point.” 

He lifted her chin so she was forced to look at him. “I know you don’t want to have to tell Carver about your father’s using blood magic, but he needs to know, about that and all the rest.”

She had to blink back tears suddenly. “I know.” 

One tear trailed down her cheek and he brushed it aside gently. “What is it?”

“It’s stupid.” She told him, stepping back and brushing impatiently at her eyes.

“Tell me anyway.” 

She sighed. “It was always the three of us. Carver and Da and me, I’ve told you that. When Bethany’s magic showed Da had to spend most of his time with her, teaching her, training her and it was just Carver and me then. We missed Da. That sounds so silly, but we truly did. We used to joke that it was just us poor non-magic Hawkes, the poor slobs who couldn’t do spells and had to rely on plain old ordinary brains and brawn. I think in a strange way, we envied Bethy having Da’s complete attention like that. But it was okay because we still had each other. It was the two of us, neither one of us had magic. It brought us even closer.” For a moment she didn’t speak. “What if that changes when he finds out?” 

“You’re worried that he might think less of you because you were born a mage?” Sebastian couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice.

“No, not exactly. But I’m worried that it will change something between us.” She suddenly buried her face in his chest. “I’m being a coward about it.” 

“Not a coward.” He told her, stroking her hair.

“But you think I should tell him.”

“Yes. It’s plain that all of this has something to do with your father’s using blood magic, whether or not it’s connected to the spell he used to separate you from your magic. Carver should know that.”

“I know.” She spoke the words into his chest and her voice was muffled. “I know.” She stayed there a moment longer, took a deep breath and then straightened up looking around at the bodies they’d left lying around. “They had a bronto, did you see?” She asked him. 

Sebastian just shook his head. Even with everything else that was going on she still sounded excited about it. “Yes, I saw the bronto, and I saw it nearly send you flying.”

Anabel just laughed, as if her being harmed was an impossibility. “I didn’t think they had brontos on the surface. I’ve only ever heard of them in the Deep…” Her voice trailed off and she looked over at the carcass of the beast. She went very still. “Shit.” She muttered under her breath.

Sebastian didn’t have time to ask her what was wrong, before she was striding swiftly towards Anders. “Anders?” She called out. 

The mage straightened up from the corpse he’d been checking. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “No. Those Grey Warden maps you had. Do you remember if there was a Deep Roads entrance in the Vimmark Mountains?”

He stared at her. “It’s been four years since I saw them … “ He tried to remember. _Shit_. 

She’d been watching him carefully. “There is, isn’t there?”

He looked grim. “Could I say with absolute certainty? No. But I think so.” Sodding Deep Roads. Even having left the Wardens he seemed to find his way back to them with alarming frequency. He felt Hawke’s hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry.” She said. “If you want to go back you can. I had no intentions of dragging you down into the Deep Roads again.”

He wanted to say yes. Andraste’s Ass, he wanted to. “Are you still going after them?” He finally asked.

“Yes.” 

“Then I’m going as well.” _Pathetic_ , he thought again.

Her relief was instantaneous. “Thank you.” Sebastian had joined them and she turned towards him. “I need to tell Carver about everything. Will you both tell the others? You’re the only ones who know everything we’ve learned. Even Varric and Fenris only know bits and pieces. I want everything out in the open finally.” Her foolish hope that she could just kill the ones responsible for attacking her and Carver and be done with it had vanished. These dwarves were poking around the Deep Roads, messing with demons or whatever this Corypheus was, and Da had been here doing Maker knew what. That they’d sent people to Kirkwall and Ansberg and had a secret fortress and brontos of all things confirmed that someone at least relatively powerful was behind it all. 

Enough hiding from the truth. “Carver!” She called out. “I need to talk to you.” 

 

She’d taken Carver aside to the far end of the ramparts and they’d both sat down, their feet dangling over the edge. Boy flopped down beside Carver.

After his initial interruptions telling her she was nuts and obviously suffering delusions of grandeur, Carver had finally listened, only interrupting to yell at her about not telling him about the effects of the red lyrium when they were in the Deep Roads four years before. She told him about what Leandra had told her, what Brother Plinth had found in his books, and what Marethari had passed along, and finally what Justice had had to say on the subject. 

He shook his head when he heard about that. “Only you would be daft enough to try and get information from Justice.” 

She shrugged. “It was worth it.” 

“You would think that, you stupid cow.” He said rolling his eyes.

“Hey, this is all fairly traumatic stuff you know. I never know what weird templar skill I’m going to whip out next, or if it’ll be something else altogether.” He’d taken it better than she thought but she couldn’t help watching him anxiously as he processed it all.

“Did you really smite Anders?” He asked with a sudden grin.

She shoved him with both hands. “It was an accident, you jerk.”

“I still would have liked to have seen it.” 

She just shook her head. “I’ve never understood why you dislike him so much.” 

Because he’d been sniffing around her and he was the last person anyone should get involved with least of all his sister. “I wonder if the Wardens might know anything about it.” He finally said. “They’re a little more relaxed about magic than most in Thedas are. They’ve got huge libraries in every base I’ve ever been to. Maybe I could ask someone.”

She looked dubious. “Anders doesn’t trust them.”

“Anders is a paranoid, possessed Grey Warden deserter. Of course he doesn’t trust them.”

“He’s saved my life more times than I can count.” She reminded him. 

Carver just grunted.

They sat there for a few minutes longer. Anabel swung her legs back and forth. 

“Did you ever think we’d end up like this when we were running around Lothering making trouble?” Carver finally asked.

She laughed. “No. Never. We have attracted a peculiar kind of fortune haven’t we?”

“I died my way into the Wardens and you stabbed your way to Champion.” He gave her a smile. “And now we’re esteemed.”

“Well-deserved, I should say.” She shifted closer and rested her head on his shoulder, wrapping both her arms around his.

He looked down in surprise. “Maker, you’ve gotten all sentimental and soft since I’ve been gone, haven’t you? Downright squishy.” 

“Shush you.” She told him. “I’m having a moment here.”


	18. The Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out in the Vimmark Mountains, Sebastian learns another of Anabel's secrets. The venture into a Carta Hideout learn of a mysterious key linked to Malcolm Hawke.

She and Carver stayed there like that for a few minutes. 

“You really think that Templars have a little bit of magic and that’s why they can do what they do?” Carver asked abruptly.

She let go of his arm and leaned back on her hands, swinging her legs forwards and back again. “Well that’s my theory anyway. Maker only knows if it’s right or not. It’s surprisingly difficult to get information about the templars from reliable sources.” She gave him a teasing look. “You couldn’t have joined the Templars, could you? It would have made it much easier. You could have spilled all their secrets.”

“Yeah, and then hauled you in for being a mage.” Carver retorted.

She laughed. “I guess it’s a good thing I dragged you along to the Deep Roads and got you tainted instead, then, isn’t it?”

He turned to her with a frown. “You don’t really think that do you?”

She was looking across the way and didn’t answer. The others seemed to have finished their discussion and Sebastian had left the group and was walking towards her and Carver. 

“Anabel.” 

When she looked back at him Carver repeated his question. “You don’t really think what happened was your fault, do you?”

She gave a small shrug that let him know, yes, that was exactly what she’d been thinking. “One of my finest moments, dragging my family down into the Deep Roads to be tainted.” She said lightly.

“Maker’s Balls, Anabel. Any of us could have been tainted down there. And it’s not like you could have stopped me going with you.” 

“I could have if I’d wanted to.” After a moment she added in a quiet voice. “Leandra blamed me for it for a long time. And you weren’t too thrilled with me either for a while.” 

He looked uncomfortable for the first time. “I was an ass back then.” He admitted. 

She couldn’t help laughing. “There is that.”

“Mother blamed you for a lot of things that weren’t your fault.” He told her. “You didn’t deserve it. From either of us.”

A breeze blew a curl free from her braid and she tucked it behind her ear. “We worked some things out before she was…before she died. I’m glad we did.” She gave Carver a considering look. “It seems to suit you, this whole Warden thing. I mean, you don’t seem like you hate it.” She said tentatively.

For a moment he didn’t speak. “No. I don’t hate it. It’s what I was meant to be, I think. And it’s important what we do. It’s something worth doing. Worth dying for.” His voice trailed off. 

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bit maudlin isn’t it?” An introspective Carver was a new development.

He looked over at her and smiled: not the easy grin he’d had before but something a little wiser and a little sadder that made him seem older suddenly. “Is it?” He said. He looked away from her. “I suppose the truth is sometimes. Your husband’s coming.” He said, pushing himself to his feet. 

It was such a blatant change of subject that she couldn’t help the frown that came to her face. Carver was looking at Sebastian and didn’t seem to notice. 

Boy went running over to greet the Prince enthusiastically; it made Carver feel better about the man who had married his sister. Boy would never be taken in by someone. He had a good sense about people. 

He’d never been terribly impressed by Anders, for instance. 

He watched as Sebastian returned Boy’s greeting, and then looked up, giving Anabel a smile that made her whole face light up. Carver had never considered himself very good at reading people, but even he could see that they were crazy about each other. He was glad for his sister though it left him more confused than ever about the whole chaste marriage thing.

“Everything’s all right here?” Sebastian asked as he joined them.

Anabel turned her smile to Carver. “Yes. Very all right.” She turned back to Sebastian. “And the others? Are they all right with everything?”

“Very all right.” Sebastian assured her. 

Carver watched as he held out his hands to Anabel, and she took them, letting him pull her to her feet and then sliding an arm around his waist and resting her head on his chest effortlessly avoiding all the pointy bits of that ridiculously poncey white armor. They’d obviously had practice with that.

When she looked over at Carver he was smiling. “What?” She asked, suspiciously.

“You actually married a prince. I never thought you’d pull that one off.” 

Her dimple danced at the corner of her mouth. “You should know better than to underestimate me, brother mine.” She smiled up at Sebastian. “But quite honestly I would have married him if he’d been just the butcher’s boy.” 

Sebastian leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose.

Carver shook his head in disbelief. “Married to a prince, living in a Hightown mansion, Champion of Kirkwall. It’s hard to believe just a few years ago we were living in a Lowtown slum and your only options were an expedition into the Deep Roads or becoming a rich man’s mistress.” He said with a laugh.

Anabel closed her eyes and rested her forehead against Sebastian’s breastplate. “Carver…” She muttered.

Sebastian had gone very still at Carver’s words and now he moved her back so that he could see her face. “A rich man’s mistress?” He asked her carefully. 

She didn’t answer, just turned and glared at her brother. 

Carver rolled his eyes. “Maker, Anabel, how was I supposed to know you never told him about it? I thought it was the man’s daughter that…” He started to say, but stopped when her eyes widened in warning. “Shit. Sorry.” He concluded trying for a contrite expression and ruining it by grinning at her.

Sebastian was giving her a puzzled frown, and Anabel was looking everywhere but directly at him.

“Right then.” Carver said. “I’ll leave you to it.” He shook his head started to walk away. “Is there anyone you aren’t keeping secrets from, Little Hawke?”

She let out an exasperated huff of air. “Fewer people than I planned to today, actually.” She told him.

Carver couldn’t help grinning again. “You’re welcome.” He called Boy, and they went to join the others.

Anabel chanced a look at Sebastian. 

He was watching her with a deliberately neutral expression on his face. “Isabela wasn’t exaggerating about you having your secrets, was she?” He asked carefully.

She sighed. “Quite honestly, I never wanted the kind of life where I needed to keep secrets from anyone. I seem to have just stumbled into it.” She said with a rueful smile. “I wasn’t trying to hide this. Not actively anyway.” Was that true?” She wasn’t quite certain why she had never spoken of her relationship with Lord Harimann. He’d had nothing to do with the murder of Sebastian’s family. She hadn’t taken him up on his offer and wasn’t ashamed that the offer had been made between them, so why hadn’t she told Sebastian about it? “Or maybe I was.” She said with a small frown. She glanced over at her husband. He looked more perplexed than before. “That doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

“Not a great deal, no.” He was forced to admit. “If you don’t want to speak of it…” He started to say.

“No, it’s not that.” She assured him. She tried to think of where to even start. “The truth is not many people knew about it -- only Carver and Varric actually, but it’s not like it’s a secret or anything. I’ll tell you if you want to know.” 

“I have to say my curiosity has been piqued.” The news that someone had offered to make Anabel his mistress hadn’t been nearly as surprising as the fact that Carver made it sound like she had actually considered it. “You’ve said before that things were bad, but I’d no idea they were quite so dire.” 

“Dire is a good word for it actually. I wasn’t exaggerating when I told you I thought we might end up in the Undercity with the other refugees.” Her voice was deliberately nonchalant. “If we hadn’t met Varric when we did it might very well have happened.” 

“I’m surprised to hear that given your skills with a weapon.” He commented, keeping his tone as casual as hers.

“Things were rather…complicated at the time.” She explained. “Meeran was unhappy about something I did and he had let it be known that he would take it as a personal insult if anyone gave us work. Then I did something else that made him even angrier and he made it very clear he that he….” She caught her lip between her teeth, and looked off into the distance. “Well, let’s just say he had some rather unsavory things planned for me. I needed to get enough money or influence to keep that from happening.”

Sebastian thought of what Fenris had told him about Meeran. “Is this when he attacked you? When you left him tied up for his men to find?”

She blinked in surprise and then her cheeks turned pink and she looked away briefly. “Maker, you heard about that? Kirkwall really is a town of old gossips, isn’t it? You know everything that happened then?” She asked, glancing up at him. Her voice was calm but he noticed she was clenching and unclenching her hands. 

He moved closer and took her hand in his. “I know he tried to rape you. I know you fought back and he didn’t succeed.” 

She clasped his hand tightly and looked out over the ramshackle walls of the fort again, but he didn’t think she was seeing them. “Yes. That about sums it up. He didn’t succeed. I was lucky.” Her eyes were distant and he knew she must be remembering it.

“It must have been frightening.” He said gently, placing his other hand on her waist, letting her know he was there and she was safe now.

She looked up at him as if she’d only just remembered he was there. “He scared me, yes, but he made me angry too. He’d surprised me in the bath. I was in just my smallclothes, and halfway out of those. I didn’t have my weapons. I didn’t have anything. And the whole time he acted as if he was doing me a favor, like it was something I’d been wanting him to do. He said we’d run the Red Iron together. That it would be a permanent arrangement and that he wasn’t asking me, he was telling me. ‘Doing jobs and doing each other’. That’s the way he put it.” 

“What did you do?” Sebastian asked, surprised at how even and calm his voice still sounded. She’d been barely more than a child when she’d worked for Meeran, and a complete innocent. He almost wished she hadn’t killed the man, just so he could have the pleasure of doing so himself.

“I pretended to go along with it. There wasn’t much else I could do. So I pretended I liked the idea. I let him touch me. I touched him. And when he was distracted enough I kneed him in the balls, stole his dagger and knocked him into the bath. You know the rest of it – how I tied him up and left him to be found like that by his men.” She said, trying to keep her voice matter of fact. “It was a stupid thing to do. I shouldn’t have humiliated him like that. It only made him angrier. I hadn’t even made it back to Gamlen’s before I realized that. I was terrified he’d come after Carver. That he’d hurt him as a way of punishing me….” She stopped for a minute realizing for the first time that it was exactly what Meeran had done. He’d just waited and toyed with her for weeks first like a particularly patient cat with a mouse. She pushed that thought away and continued. “We stopped working for him, and I hoped that would be the end of it, that he’d be too embarrassed to talk about it or come after us, and it seemed to be true for a while. But when we started getting work on our own he reappeared in our lives, offering us jobs that he claimed the Red Iron were too busy to take on. He even stopped by Gamlen’s one day when we were out and charmed Leandra, telling her how much he wanted to make things right between us. We did take some of the jobs. It’s how we met Fenris actually, so some good did come out of it.” 

He reached out and stroked her cheek. “I hate that you had to go through that. I wish I’d known. That I could have helped you in some way.” 

She leaned into his touch, giving him a small smile. “We hadn’t even met at that point. You were safe in the Chantry. A world away from the Red Iron and Lowtown.”

“I’m still sorry though.”

“It’s over and done with now. Telling you all of this is just background for what Carver was talking about. After we met Varric we started finding more work, and making a name for ourselves. And eventually I got a letter from Meeran saying he wanted to meet. When we did he offered me a contract on a nobleman.”

“An assassination?” Asked Sebastian in surprise. 

“Yes. He must have thought I was truly desperate to think I would even consider it, or maybe it was a trap from the beginning. I didn’t kill the man of course. I warned him about Meeran and the Red Iron and the contract. Meeran nearly killed me when he found out, and I mean that literally. He caught me on my own and attacked me in an alley near the Hanged Man and slammed my head into a brick wall. Luckily the others interrupted and Meeran left swearing it wasn’t over and that he had ‘plans’ for me…” She paused for a moment. “Meeran was a powerful man in Kirkwall at the time. Being on his bad side was not a safe place for someone like me to be.”

“Someone like you?”

“Poor, unconnected, unimportant. A penniless Fereldan refugee who wouldn’t be missed.” 

He looked at her, his face unreadable, and then he suddenly bent down and kissed her gently on the mouth. “You would have been missed.” He told her.

She gave him a tremulous smile. “Even then?”

His eyes went over her face and he kissed her again. “Yes, even then.”

She smiled and leaned her head against him briefly before resuming her story. “Shortly after all that, I ran into the nobleman I’d saved at the Keep, and he invited me to dine with him as a way of saying thank you. I must have made an impression.”

Sebastian could easily believe it. “So you had dinner with him.”

“Yes. As it turned out he’d heard about my troubles with Meeran. And he must have asked around, because he knew who I was, that I had a brother and about Mother being an Amell and all. He made me an offer: he’d set her and Carver up in their own home in Hightown and sponsor Carver in whatever profession he wished. In return I would live with him, run his household, act as his hostess…” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “And be his mistress. He said he could ensure Meeran wasn’t a threat to any of us.” She shook her head. “I remember thinking at the time that I should be horribly offended and outraged about it but he made it sound so reasonable. Such a logical choice. If I had any sense at all I would have accepted his offer. It would have been the simplest solution to our problems.”

Sebastian frowned. “This man was that powerful?” His mind was racing, trying to consider who had that sort of influence in Kirkwall.

“Yes.” She said with no hesitation. 

“Did he know how inexperienced you were?” It was a prurient question but Sebastian couldn’t help asking it.

Her cheeks turned even pinker. “That I was a virgin you mean? Yes. I told him. It seemed fair to let him know I wouldn’t have any idea what I was doing in that area. He was surprised – well most people are. But he said it didn’t matter.”

Sebastian couldn’t help a small snort. “Yes I can just imagine. Did he actually put it like that?”

She tried to remember. “I think his exact words were ‘what is wrong with young men today?’. She said with a small, rueful smile.

Sebastian couldn’t help laughing, in spite of himself.

“He told me to take a few days and think about it. I did for about a minute and a half, and I turned him down. He was really very nice about it all, the offer and the refusal both.” She looked up at him and smiled suddenly. “It all worked out in the end. I stumbled across Sister Plinth down in Darktown a week or so later and brought her to the Chantry. You remember the rest.”

He thought of how ecstatic she had been that day when she’d realized the reward for returning Sister Plinth’s remains meant she’d had the money for the expedition. “That was the first time you kissed me.” 

Her smile deepened. “Yes, brazen woman that I am. You should have realized right then what trouble I was.” She rested her head against his breastplate again and didn’t lift it as she continued. “It was a good day.” She said softly. “The night proved more troublesome, however. Meeran and his men attacked us and nearly killed Carver. Meeran ordered his men to kill everyone else but said I was to be left alive and that he’d let them have what was left when he was done with me.” 

Sebastian mouth had formed a grim line. “I’m glad you killed him.” 

“As am I, and I don’t often say that. He very nearly got what he wanted. We were badly outnumbered. But that same nobleman had gotten wind of Meeran’s plans somehow, and got a message to Aveline. She was able to swoop in to the rescue with some of the guard. Meeran and most of the Red Iron were killed. The danger was gone.”

He slipped his arms around her, pulling her close, and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Thank the Maker for the intervention of this man, whoever he was, and however unscrupulous his original offer to Anabel had been. “You called it a kerfuffle the next day.”

“Did I? It was a bit more than that truthfully.” She rested her hands against his chest and looked up at him.

Her expression was still uncertain and he realized there must be more to it. “Why did you never tell me about it?” He asked gently.

She stared up at him for minute before saying softly. “Because the nobleman was Lord Harimann.” 

Whatever Sebastian had been expecting her to say, it hadn’t been that. He felt as if he’d been doused in icy cold water. “Lord Harimann?” He repeated. His hands dropped to his sides and he took a step back. The man was old enough to be her grandfather, had actually been a friend of her grandfather’s if he remembered correctly. He suddenly remembered that day he had pointed her out to Lord Harimann in the Hightown Market. “Sweet Andraste. I told him who you were.” He said, aghast at the realization. If she had ended up the man’s mistress it would have been his fault. 

He couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around it. Lord Harimann had wanted Anabel as his mistress. Had actually tried to make her his mistress, taking advantage of her misfortune to do so, something that hadn’t seemed to occur to her. 

Lord Harimann had seen the opportunity and taken it.

Unlike Sebastian, he hadn’t hesitated in the slightest. He seen her, wanted her and set out to make her his. 

And in spite of the fact he had been in contact with both of them at the time, Sebastian had had absolutely no idea about any of it. He’d wanted her just as badly but he’d stayed in the Chantry, locked away, insulated from the world, isolated and safe as a princess in an ivory tower, fantasizing about her, dreaming about her, but not even considering that anyone else might try to have her. 

He’d never thought of himself as naïve, not before now. 

And then he remembered something else. He turned and stared at her.

She was watching him warily. “He was very kind to me, Sebastian, even after I’d refused him.” 

He was looking at her as if he’d never quite seen her before. “I attended him on his deathbed. He’d asked for me, specifically.” He told her. 

“Did you?” Seeing his reaction, Anabel couldn’t help thinking of how different things would have been if she had taken Lord Harimann up on his offer. What if she had met Sebastian when acting as Lord Harimann’s hostess? Everyone would have known the truth of their relationship; everyone would have known she was his mistress. What if she’d had to sit across a dinner table from Sebastian, dressed up in the elegant clothes Lord Harimann had tried to tempt her with, and been forced to make small talk with Sebastian all evening. Maker, it would have been horrible. She’d never let herself think about it that way before. Sebastian continued to stare at her, his face unreadable now.

“He spoke of you.” He said finally.

She blinked in surprise. “Of me?” 

“I didn’t know it was you at the time. He talked about a girl. He thought she was in danger. He made me promise to take care of her. He became quite frantic about it. I thought he must have a mistress somewhere, or be thinking of someone from his past. He was barely coherent towards the end. He made me promise to protect her…you. I finally promised I would, just to give him some peace.” He looked at her standing there and wondered what Lord Harimann would think of the changes in her: wealthy, respected, the Champion of Kirkwall, and if popular opinion held any sway in the city the future Viscount, and in addition to all of that even more beautiful, more irresistible, more desirable than ever. If she had taken the man up on his offer, would any of that had happened? 

Would she still be his wife? He looked suddenly stricken. “If you had taken him up on his offer….” 

She knew he was thinking what she had been moments before and she quickly reached up to caress his cheek. “I didn’t. I couldn’t.” She told him.

He barely heard her words. “I wouldn’t have known you. You would have just been something else the Harimanns took from me.” 

So many ifs. So many things that could have prevented their being together. 

He took her face in hands, looking down at her, drinking her in, before leaning down to press his lips to her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks and finally her mouth. There was a quiet franticness to the kisses. “I came so close to not knowing you.” He said against her lips. “To not having you.”

“But you do.” She whispered.

“Yes.” He said and he seemed be comforted by the thought. “Yes.” He repeated. She was his. Not Lord Harimann’s. Not Meeran’s. Not Anders’. She was his. His wife. They had all wanted her but she had chosen him, had married him, in spite of all the things he was denying her. 

Children. Making love. She’d never known either of those things and thanks to him she never would, not if he continued to hold her to this chaste marriage. But if he told her it had been a lie would she remain? 

How could he tell her and risk her leaving him?

He didn’t think he could. They would continue on as they had the past few months. She knew what she was giving up and she’d still chosen to be with him. _In this life and beyond_ , just as their vows had said. They would be all right.

They had to be.

He suddenly crushed her to him, burying his face in her bright hair, breathing in the scent of her, reassuring himself that she was there. 

She was startled by the vehemence of his action but she reached up automatically to stroke his hair and soothe him. “It’s all right. We’re together. I’m yours and you’re mine.” She said gently. “Nothing is going to change that.” 

He forced himself to be calm. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “Yes. Nothing will change that. I’m yours and you’re mine.” He repeated as if it were a litany. “I don’t deserve you.” He muttered against her cheek.

After a moment, she tilted her head back looking up at him with a hint of laughter in her eyes. “Just to be certain, you mean that in the good way, right?”  
He couldn’t help smiling . “Yes. In the very best way. You are too good for me, too brave, too beautiful, and far too understanding.” 

He was practically bent double holding her like this. “And far too short.” 

He laughed and lifted her up so her face was level with his and her feet dangled above the ground. “No. You’re absolutely perfect. I wouldn’t have you any other way.” 

“Convenient for me.” She said laughing as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Means I don’t even have to wear heels if I don’t want to.”

His face grew serious. “I love you.” He told.

“I knew that actually. That’s convenient as well, seeing as how I love you too.” She couldn’t help squealing when he spun her around suddenly, holding her even tighter.

They were both still smiling when they rejoined the others, hand in hand. 

Sebastian had been right. None of them seemed to have an issue with anything they’d been told.

Aveline just shrugged. “You were a mage and your father stopped it. You’re not a mage. I don’t see how the rest is anyone’s business.” The others seemed to agree with her.

Anabel blinked in surprise. “It’s that simple?”

“Not everything has to be complicated, Hawke. Something you might want to remember as you go about your business.” 

Varric laughed at the stunned expression on her face. “What, you thought this was going to be the thing that drove us screaming away?”

She gave him a disbelieving look. “Well, come on. It’s fairly high up on the list of ‘weird shit somehow connected to Hawke’, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure anyone would believe it even I could tell this one.” He shook his head. “You always do steal my best stories Hawke. So what happens next?”

She took a deep breath. “I need to find out why these dwarves want my blood and who this Corypheus is and what Da has to do with all of it. Sebastian and Carver are coming along, and Anders as well.” She looked carefully at each of them. “If any of you want to go back to Kirkwall I understand. No one thought we’d end up going down into the Deep Roads when we set out on this little jaunt.”

They all exchanged looks but to her surprise it was Isabela who spoke for them. “Oh, Kitten. Do you really think any of us would let you do this on your own?” She reached down the front of her tunic and pulled out a key. “I think this might be the key you’re looking for, if you’re interested.”

 

 

More locked gates, more traps, more deranged dwarves and even more brontos later, and they’d cleared out the hideout and stood staring at the stone tower that rose out of the chasm itself. The only way into it seemed to be through the hideout behind them. 

Anabel peered over the edge. It was hard to even see how far down it went.

“That report was right.” She said, referring to the decaying letter they’d found in one of the rooms of the hideout. “There at the top. See the griffons?” Anabel asked pointing to the top floor. “It is a Warden stronghold.”

“It was, you mean.” Said Carver. “Look at it. It’s been deserted for decades. Centuries probably.” He turned to look at his sister. “Are you ready to go in?”

She looked at the tower, wondering if the strange way the wind was swirling at the top was just sand and dust or something more sinister. “Someday I'll visit a place with no ancient evils, horrors, devouring plagues, or insanity. “ She said with a plaintive sigh. “Maybe a beach.” She added brightly.

“I can recommend a few, if you’d like.” Isabela said helpfully.

Hawke flashed her a grin. “Please do.”

Varic snorted. “The day Hawke goes to the beach will be the day an angry armada of demon pirates shows up.”

She just laughed. “We’ll have to save it for another day then. Let’s get this over with.”

Each room they went into seemed to raise more questions than it answered. And everyone they found seemed to be talking about her blood.

“Really, blood again?” Hawke asked in an exasperated voice after they’d emptied out yet another room. “Why can’t it ever be spit or a lock of hair?”

“You really want to encounter a spit mage?” Asked Varric, hoisting Bianca onto his back.

She just shrugged. “For variety’s sake, sure.”

Carver shook his head. “You worry me, you know that?” 

She was looking around at the mining equipment and didn’t answer. Mining equipment that seemed to be in every room large enough to hold in, and apparently still in use, though obviously the mine wasn’t operating at nearly its potential capacity. She turned back to the others. “Which came first do you think? The mining equipment and the dwarves, or the Grey Warden fortress?“

“Hard to say for certain.” Aveline answered. 

“Yet here they sit, practically on top of each other.” She turned to Carver. “The Wardens didn’t tell you anything about this?” 

“I don’t think they bloody knew anything. If there were Wardens here once, they’re long gone.” But he was scowling as if he wasn’t quite convinced either.

She knew what the answer would be if she asked Anders. There were only a handful of Wardens he still trusted. She wasn’t even entirely convinced that he included Carver among them. The two had had some rather biting exchanges on the subject of the Wardens and their purpose since they started this little trip. 

She jumped when Sebastian came up beside her and put his hand on her arm. She smiled when she saw who it was. “Sorry. You startled me.”

“You don’t think it’s deserted.” He said. He’d been watching her carefully as she tried to make sense of everything they found.

She shook her head. “No, I don’t. This place is awfully lively for a not-Carta hideout in the middle of nowhere or and supposedly deserted ancient Grey Warden fortress.” She’d glanced over at Anders who was reading one of the papers they found when they’d cleared this room while she spoke. He had a frown on his face. “What is it?”

He began reading out loud.

_The Wardens did not guard the key with care. It was left in repository, with objects of little worth. Trinkets. Dusty Grey Warden trophies. Not even a guard posted. Fools. If only they knew what they had, and had lost._  
_It will not wake at my touch; it sleeps and its power remains within. The Great One says it requires Malcolm Hawke's blood to awaken it. Only then can its powers set him free._  
_I will find the heir to the blood and the Great One will reward me. Yes. Let it be soon._

“I think I liked these guys better before they found religion, or whatever this is.” Varric commented.

“Oh wonderful.” Said Hawke, rolling her eyes. “That doesn’t sound too ominous. Wasn’t one of the dwarves back at the bronto saying something about a key that belonged to our father? 

Carver shuddered. “Keys and blood. Not a good sign. And not how I want to think of Da.” 

“It gets stranger and stranger doesn’t it?” She looked back at Anders. “Does any of this mean anything to you?”

“A key tuned to your father’s blood.” Anders grimaced. “Sounds like a ritual for blood magic.” He admitted. 

Carver scowled at him. “Our father never did blood magic.”

“We know he did, Carver. At least once.” She turned to Merrill. “Have you heard of blood magic being used like that Merrill?”

Merrill cast an uneasy eye at first Fenris and the Anders. “I was told once that it could be done.” She said carefully. “But I don’t think it’s a very good idea, Hawke. Your blood becomes part of the object then. From then on it could only be used if your blood was a part of the spell.”

“Or your descendant’s blood apparently. It would explain why they want our blood, mine and Carver’s. Whatever this key is, it won’t work without it.” Hawke said with a frown.

“I suppose your demon told you that.” Anders said contemptuously to Merrill. 

Merrill seemed to miss his tone, or at least to ignore it. “Yes. He was very excited by the idea actually. That’s why I didn’t do it. It’s never a good idea to take advice from spirits. Their idea of what’s a good idea to do isn’t necessarily good for all of us here in this world. You should be careful.” To Anabel’s surprise Merrill was looking at Anders when she spoke, not at her or Carver. She wondered if it was intentional, a warning for the other mage, or just Merrill’s typical absentmindedness.

“Let see if we can find anything else.” Hawke said, before any argument could start.

The others began looking through crates and papers and barrels. 

Anabel turned to Sebastian. “Do you think it’s connected? All of this and what Da did to me? Maybe this is where he found out how to do it.”

The expression on his face was guarded. “I don’t think we can say right now. But if this key is what Merrill says it is we need to get a hold of it.”

Fenris came up to join them and she gave him a smile. “What’s your opinion about all this?” She asked him. 

“Clearly the dwarves have found a demon.” Said Fenris. There wasn’t even a trace of hesitation in the statement. “One that would require blood to imprison it or more blood to free it.” He scowled and shook his head. “It would be powerful.”

He seemed so certain that Anabel couldn’t help wondering if he had seen Danarius do something similar. She didn’t ask him, just shook her head. “Why can’t we ever hunt down normal criminals? The kind who don’t worship demons”

 

They discovered another note in the next room they went through a stack of papers and letters belonging to someone named Rhatigan. Hawke pulled out the note Anders had found earlier. The handwriting seemed to match, but this one had lines crossed out and re written, as it was in the midst of being revised. She frowned. “It looks like a speech.” He had enough followers that he was making speeches to them? She read it to the others.

_Like many of you, I was once a thieving wretch. I was a servant to coin and my own base desires. And that is when I heard his call. Corypheus opened my eyes, just as he has opened yours, and showed me what was true._  
_What is the Carta beside Corypheus? Nothing but dust and ashes. Only Corypheus is eternal. We are his hands and his eyes on the surface. We are the ones he honored with his trust, to dig him from his prison in the Deep Roads._  
_When Corypheus steps into the sunlight, we will be rewarded. Praise him! Praise Corypheus!_

“Sounds like he’s running for office.” She commented. She looked up at the others. “I think we need to introduce ourselves to this Rhatigan since it seems he was behind our invitation.” 

 

They had to go through a dozen more dwarves before they found him, including an old acquaintance of Varric’s named Garav who’d designed Bianca and told them that the dwarves were drinking Darkspawn blood in order to hear “the Master’s voice”. After ranting about needing Hawke’s blood he’d attacked them. Varric hadn’t even hesitated when she’d asked him if he wanted to spare the poor bastard.

“Not if he’s after you, Hawke.”

He’d crouched down beside Gerav’s body after the fight was over and she’d walked over a knelt beside him.

“I’m sorry, Varric.”

“Nah. Gerav was always crazy. Even back in the day. But in a good way then.” He straightened up. “Let’s go find Rhatigan. He’s got a lot to answer for.”

 

They didn’t have far to go. Another large room, and yet another Bronto, the biggest and meanest they’d seen yet. It turned its head and snorted angrily at them. Did brontos get angry?

A dwarf stood beside it, loading bags onto its back. He barely looked up from what he was doing, just glanced in her direction. “Hawke.” He said as if they were old friends. “They warned me you were going to be trouble.” He glanced over at Carver who stood beside her. “And look you brought the whole family. How thoughtful of you. I swore to Corypheus I’d bring him Malcolm Hawke’s blood one way or another.” He looked bigger and meaner as well.

“Rhatigan, I presume?” She said matching his easy tone. “You know in polite society the host is there to welcome you when you accept an invitation.”

He smirked. “I’d heard you were funny. I never had the time for it myself.”

She tilted her head. “And Corypheus? How’s his sense of humor?” She asked. “He’s got you working for him, so I’m assuming it’s pretty good.” 

For the first time she saw a flash of irritation. “Corypheus chose me. Corypheus found me worthy to free him.”

“Using my blood apparently. How exactly does that work?” 

He just shrugged. “What Corypheus wants, Corypheus gets. I don’t ask why or how.” He turned to the other dwarves. “Hold the bronto. We need the Hawke alive.”

Not taking her eyes off Rhatigan , she turned her head and said to Carver in a low voice. “You and Fenris and Aveline take out the bronto first. The room’s too small to let it go rampaging around. 

Rhatigan came charging at her and she didn’t have a chance to say more. 

It was the most brutal fight yet, made even more brutal by the vicious blade traps all around the room. Only Hawke’s speed saved her from having a slice taken from her arm, after she’d dealt Rhatigan a killing blow. She lay there on her back beside Rhatigan’s trying to catch her breath. 

Carver was the first to reach her. “You okay?” He asked anxiously.

“Just peachy.” She said rolling onto her hands and knees. She winced and looked at her palms. She scraped them bloody when she’d landed. She lifter her head to make sure everyone was all right. Her eyes found Sebastian up on one of the balconies where he’d been firing arrows down at the dwarves, and she smiled feeling the familiar relief that he was unharmed. He turned and started down the stairs to where she was.

Carver reached down a hand to help her up and something underneath Rhatigan began to glow. 

“What the Void?” Hawke muttered. Rhatigan had landed on his stomach and a white hot light seemed to be streaming out from beneath him. She closed the space between them and pushed his body over and had to shut her eyes as the light flared outward. 

She opened them slightly, trying to see just what was glowing.

“What the fuck is that?” Carver asked leaning forward. 

“A weapon?” The light was so bright that she couldn’t see it clearly. It seemed to get larger as Carver came closer. 

Carver had to turn away blinking, and it seemed suddenly smaller again. She reached out her hand.

“Is that the key, then?” She heard Merrill ask behind her.

“The key?” Anders repeated sharply.

His voice seemed strangely far away. Anabel moved closer trying to make out just what it was she was seeing. It was a weapon that much seemed clear but she couldn’t see what, as if her brain could quite process the image. She reached out her hand to touch it.

“Fuck! Hawke don’t touch it. Don’t!” Anders shouted.

She heard him, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Her hand closed on it and that white light seemed to shoot into her through the cuts on her palm. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it seemed to charge through her, making it hard for her to catch her breath. She could see it racing through her just under the skin of her arms and hands, could feel it in her body and her face. And even stranger than that, the weapons seemed to be changing shape beneath her hands. Anabel could feel it growing long and thick like a staff and then it seemed to hesitate and change again grew smaller, and the shape changed, seeming to curve at the end.

“Anabel!” She heard Sebastian shout. From the corner of her eye she saw Fenris holding him back from her.

“What is this? I can feel it inside me.” She couldn’t quite keep the panic from her voice. 

And then, as abruptly as it had started, the white light faded away. When the glow finally subsided she was holding a weapon about the length of one of her blades, but seemed to incorporate the look of a staff as well. There was something strange about it, unlike any weapon she had ever seen. It lacked the clean and elegant lines of her weapons, looked as if it shouldn’t balance, like it was both top heavy and bottom heavy but the feel of it. She swung it experimentally.

It felt perfect. Like it was a part of her. “The Key.” She said in an awed tone. She looked at Anders. “Tuned to my father’s blood. Tuned to my blood?” Alien almost, certainly foreign. “It changed when I touched it.” She said with awe. 

“A weapon with a mind of its own? It’s no Bianca but I’ll take it.” Varric seemed impressed.

.”I could feel it inside me.” Said Carver. He reached out a hand to touch it and then drew it back before he did. “The enchantment needed to do that...“ He gave her a sharp look. “What did Da know?”

“I don’t know.” She answered looking down at the Key. “But I know who does. And I know that this will take me to Corypheus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	19. Down and In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anabel Hawke and her companions venture further into the Warden Prison. Hawke learns some of the Warden secrets.

“I don’t know.” Hawke answered looking down at the Key: she seemed to be unable to take her eyes from it. “But I know who does. And I know that this will take me to Corypheus.” She spoke with absolute certainty.

Sebastian felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. Something seemed off in the way she was acting. “Anabel.” He said warily. 

She was turning the weapon over in her hand and didn’t respond. The weapon or key or whatever it was seemed to still have a faint glow to it and it was reflected in her eyes. She seemed barely aware of the rest of them.

Anders had moved up to stand beside him. “Hawke.” He said sharply. His voice was more insistent than Sebastian’s had been.

Still she didn’t respond, just ran a hand lovingly down the weapon.

Her companions exchanged worried looks.

“What the fuck?” Said Carver with a frown. He started to move towards her. 

Anders hand on his arm stopped him. “No. We don’t know what exactly this thing is doing and you’ve got Hawke blood as well.” He turned to Sebastian. “She listens to you more than any of us. Don’t touch her, but try to get her attention.”

Sebastian moved closer. “Anabel.” He had to repeat it more sharply before she looked at him. Even then there was reluctance in the action. She blinked a few times as if she was having trouble focusing on him.

“Do you see it?” She asked in an awed voice. Her eyes went back to the Key.

He glanced back at Anders to see what he should do next, but before Anders could give any kind of response there was a sound from ahead of them.

Anabel’s head jerked up, her eyes searching the dimly lit corridor. There was movement, and two more dwarves who had been concealed there turned and ran when they realized they’d been seen.

Anabel didn’t even hesitate, didn’t even speak, just bolted after them.

The others immediately followed her, Boy in the lead, barking madly the whole time.

“Shit!” Carver shouted as they chased after her.

And Sebastian couldn’t help but agree. Whatever this weapon was it had an unnatural hold on Anabel. They needed to get it away from her. 

The corridor expanded out, no longer rickety wood, but massive stone construction. There was a wide staircase leading down. 

The dwarves were almost at the bottom and Anabel had nearly caught up to them when she missed a step and went tumbling down the rest of the way. The Key flew out of her hand, landing several feet away from her. 

Sebastian sped up, jumping from the steps before he’d even reached the bottom and running to her side, sliding to his knees as he reached her. She was already pushing herself to an upright position as he grabbed her shoulders. Her eyes when she looked at him were fearful.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded, trying to catch her breath and staring apprehensively at the Key. Sebastian slipped one arm around her pulling her close and she leaned against him, groping for his hand and clutching it tightly, as the others ran up and joined them. Varric was the last one down the stairs, and as soon as he stepped off there was a strange dull sound, almost like air being suck out of a room. A shimmering gold tinged barrier now blocked the staircase up. Aveline and Fenris ran to Varric’s side to examine it.

“Those sons of bitches.” Varric said through gritted teeth. “The whole things sealed over.” 

“I’m sorry.” Anabel stammered. “I should have seen that coming.” She stared at the Key. “It was as if I couldn’t stop myself like I had to follow them down here.” She turned to look at Anders. “Is some kind of spell on the weapon or something else?” 

Anders walked over and crouched down beside the Key. “It’s hard to say.” He reached over and picked it up. 

Aveline frowned. “Should you be doing that?” she asked him sharply.

He was examining it carefully. “I don’t think we need to be worried about it. It’s tuned to Hawke blood, not anyone else’s.“ He glanced over at Anabel. “Do you sense anything from it?”

That she hadn’t even thought to use that particular ability let her know just how strong a hold it had had on her. She reached out tentatively trying to sense it. “It’s magic, obviously.” She had a puzzled frown on her face as she spoke. “It’s odd though.” She looked up at Anders. “From what we’ve learned I know it’s fueled by blood magic, but if I didn’t know that? I’m not sure I would have recognized it as such. Blood magic has always had such a distinctive, revolting feel to it and this doesn’t.”

Anders frowned. “Not at all?” He could only tell the Key was powerful, but his ability in that regards had never been as strong or precise as Hawke’s was.

She was shaking her head. “No. It feels different from anything I’ve ever felt, blood magic or now. But it doesn’t feel foul the way other things fueled by blood magic do. But it’s more than that.” She struggled to find the words to describe it and couldn’t. “I think I need to touch it again. I only had a few seconds before whatever that was took hold of me.” She looked less than thrilled with the idea. 

Anders straightened up, still holding the key. “I agree.” 

Sebastian’s arm tightened around her as he looked back and forth between the two of them. “That sounds like a remarkably bad idea to me.” He said, but Anabel was already pushing herself to her feet.

“Whatever this thing is it seems like it’s vital part of finding and dealing with this Corypheus fellow. But before we do that we need to know what exactly it is, and we need to see if what just happened was simply to get us down here and trap us, or if it’s going to keep on happening.”

Sebastian gave her an incredulous look. “And if it does happen again.” He asked.

She flashed him a grin. “Then you all can just give me a good clonk on the head and take it away again.” She turned away before he could say anything else.

She walked up to Anders and despite the careless bravado of words she’d just spoken, her voice was uncertain when she spoke, so softly that he doubted the others heard her. “Do you know how much I really don’t want to do this?” She asked him. 

He knew that she wasn’t thinking of the risk to herself but to the rest of them. Anabel Hawke. Always everyone else’s safety first. He couldn’t help admiring her for it, in spite of how frustrated it made him. “It’ll be okay, Hawke.” He said trying to reassure her.

She looked up at him at let him catch just a glimpse of her uncertainty. “I was serious just now. If I…”

He cut her off. “I promise, if you lose control, I’ll keep you from hurting anyone.” He held out the Key.

Some of the tension seemed to leave her. “Right.” She said, still not touching the key. “Okay.” She looked up at him again. “And you know, if I can ever return the favor.…” She said lightly.

A smile curved his lips. “You’ll be the first I’ll ask. Now stop procrastinating.” 

She nodded slowly, staring at the Key now. “Right.” She said again, and taking a deep breath and she wrapped her hand around it. Anders let go. 

They all held their breath for a moment and then she looked up and smiled faintly. “It’s okay. No overpowering need to stare at it, no strange compulsions to go off chasing anyone. It’s just a really well balanced weapon.” 

“And the blood magic?” Asked Fenris, unable to hide his distaste.

She paused as she focused on the weapon in her hands. “Yes, it’s there if I really look for it. But it’s strange: it’s so perfect that it doesn’t feel like blood magic.”

“Perfect?” Snarled Fenris.

“No.” She said hastily. She searched for another way to put it. She thought of saying it would be like comparing the Agreggio to the wine Corff served at the Hanged Man, but decided that bringing up Danarius’ wine cellar was unwise. “No, not perfect. That’s not the right word. Have you ever cut yourself on a really good blade; one with such a finely honed edge that you don’t actually feel any pain at first because it’s is so perfectly sharp? It’s like that. I know there’s blood magic but it’s so….refined almost that it doesn’t seem to have the usual effect.”

“What would cause that?” Asked Sebastian. He found the idea of blood magic that couldn’t readily be identified as such more than a little disturbing.

Anabel was chewing on her lower lip as she considered the question. “I can think of a few reasons. Least comforting is that whoever originally enchanted the weapon was that just skilled at blood magic.” She hoped it was the mage who had originally enchanted the key who had been so skilled. The other option was that Da had been that skilled at it, and that wasn’t a theory she wanted to voice out loud to anyone just yet. She wondered how old the weapon was. Just how long had Corypheus been imprisoned?

“And the more comforting theory?” Asked Varric.

“Because it’s tuned to my blood, to Hawke blood I mean, it doesn’t feel as…wrong, somehow.” She frowned. “I wonder…” her voice trailed off and she turned to stare at Merrill. “Why do I never feel ill when you use blood magic?” She asked.

Merrill blinked carefully, but her usual pleasant expression didn’t change. “I told you, Hawke. Blood’s just another way of fueling magic.” She said placidly.

Hawke shook her head. “No. I don’t believe that. It couldn’t feel so foul if that were the case. But maybe…” She stopped mid-sentence again.

“Maker, will you stop doing that?” Carver demanded. “Maybe what? You wonder what?”

She ignored him and turned back to Anders. “Could the way the blood is obtained change the feel of it? If the blood was given willingly, and not taken forcibly?” She frowned and turned to stare at Merrill again. “What if it’s not the blood magic that I’m sensing when I feel so unwell, but the way the blood that fuels the spell is obtained?” She immediately frowned again. But then where did demons come into it? If, as Anders said, you had to make a deal with a demon to do blood magic then how the blood was obtained shouldn’t affect how it felt, should it? 

“But the Key itself doesn’t have any kind of hold on you anymore?” Asked Aveline when she didn’t say anything.

Hawke couldn’t help a smile. As always, Aveline’s practicality cut to the heart of the matter. And she was right. The philosophizing about blood magic could wait until they were back in Kirkwall. “No, it doesn’t. I feel the connection still, but it’s just a connection, not any kind of control.” She glanced at her brother. “Do you feel it too?”

“Yes.” He said flatly. “But don’t ask me to touch that thing. Because I won’t.” 

Anabel couldn’t help laughing. “Oh dear. It’s finally happened: Carver’s showing more sense than me.” 

Carver just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m not sure that took so much effort.”

That seemed to only make her laugh more and Sebastian could only marvel that she could be laughing even with everything that had happened, but he found himself smiling at the sound, and looking around her realized her laughter seemed to be having the same effect on everyone else to varying degrees.

“Well, the way back is blocked. Let’s see what’s ahead.” She said finally.

They rounded the corner from the stairs and there it was suddenly: the base of the tower they’d seen from the surface. Daylight filtered down from above, seeming to almost illuminate it. 

“There truly is a whole tower down here. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Anders sounded almost awestruck.

They walked over to get it a closer look at it.

“Why would you build something so pretty where no one ever goes?” Asked Merrill. 

Anabel couldn’t help smiling. Only Merrill. “It is kind of pretty isn’t it?” She asked Sebastian as he came up behind her. “Or it must have been pretty at one time. Strange that they would make such effort with what’s supposed to be a prison.” She took his arms and wrapped them around herself, so she was encircled by them.

He pulled her even closer and brushed his lips against the top of her head. “Are you really all right?” He asked her softly. 

She hesitated before answering “I’m not terribly thrilled with having been manipulated by an inanimate object, blood connection or no.” She admitted. She stared up at the tower wondering what they would find there.

She didn’t have long to wait. There were figures, a dozen or so shambling around the base and towards a bridge leading out from it. Her heart dropped as she realized what they were. She turned to Carver and Anders and the expression on their faces confirmed it.

“Darkspawn.” Said Aveline grimly.

Anabel felt Sebastian stiffen behind her and she suddenly realized he hadn’t ever seen them before.

“I really need to stay out of the Deep Roads.” She heard Anders mutter.

“Is this the Deep Roads then?” Asked Merrill, and Maker help her, she sounded almost excited about it. “Is this going to be a tradition with you Hawke? Every few years a trip down to the Deep Roads?”

“Not if I can help it.” Anabel said, glancing backwards at Sebastian. She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. She looked around at the others, catching Isabela’s eye. As far as she knew the pirate had never seen them either.

Isabela just shrugged. “I prefer towers filled with coin to towers filled with darkspawn. For future reference.” She informed her.

Anabel’s eyes twinkled. “Good to know. Let’s take a look around here before we try to get into that tower.

There were two rooms in the corner that may have been cells at one point though there were no bars on them. There wasn’t much in them: a few coins and what appeared to be a sealed letter. Hawke arched an eyebrow. “Privileged to the Wardens” she read.

“Oh, this should be good.” Muttered Anders. He ignored the indignant look Carver shot him. 

Hawke didn’t even hesitate, just broke the seal and read it.

_All we hear is that this is one of the great Grey Warden secrets. "It must be protected at all costs." As usual, we're most concerned with deceiving our own people. But why hide that the Deep Roads were shaped not only by the dwarves but also by us?_

_I found records dating back to 1004 TE, the wake of the First Blight. Early Wardens discovered that some darkspawn could think and speak and commanded portions of the horde even after the Archdemon's death. A few could wield magic with the skill of a Tevinter magister, and the Wardens greatly feared them._

_It was here, in the Vimmark Mountains, that Warden Sashamiri set her trap to capture and study the greatest of these creatures, the one whom they called Corypheus._

It was signed by someone named Janeka. 

“You’re sure that’s what it says?” Anders demanded. “A talking darkspawn?”

“The greatest of them, apparently.” Hawke said, still looking at the letter.

Carver gave a disbelieving laugh. “There’s no such thing as a talking darkspawn.”

Anders gave a harsh laugh. “Nice to know the Wardens are still keeping their secrets. I met several when I was in Amaranthine. One of them called himself the Architect. He was responsible for releasing the last blight just a bit early. The Grey Wardens knew about the talking Darkspawn all along." He said bitterly. "Those bastards. Nell had no idea they existed. We were dealing with them blind.”

Anabel looked at him in surprise. “They kept that from her?”

“The Wardens keep so many secrets I doubt even First Warden in Weisshaupt knows all of them. Something to keep in mind, Carver, as you rise through the ranks.”

Carver scowled at him. “The Wardens do all right, considering.” He told the mage. 

Anders just snorted in response.

They moved further into the place trying to find the bridge to the tower itself. Evidence of the Wardens was everywhere, massive griffon shields hung in almost every room. They came to a sealed heavy door and could hear Darkspawn beyond it. Anabel tried to open it but it was stuck. She slammed into it with her shoulder and it didn’t budge. “Ow.” She said rubbing her shoulder.

“Honestly, Anabel. Are you ever going to admit there might be someone better suited to a task than you?” Asked Carver shaking his head. He lifted his foot and kicked and the door slammed open with a loud crash.

The darkspawn at the far end of the chamber looked up snarling and immediately charged at them. 

They seemed bigger and faster than the darkspawn they’d encountered the last time they’d been in the Deep Roads but they had that same unerring ability to just appear, seemingly out of nowhere just when you thought you’d defeated the last of them.

Carver was brilliant at killing them she realized, watching as he brought his sword down and quite literally cleaved it’s head in half. 

“Maker’s breath, I’d forgotten how much I hate fighting those things.” She commented with a small shudder. 

Sebastian was standing by the corpses of the two dwarves, softly reciting a prayer. 

Carver was looking at him with a disbelieving smirk and she poked him in his side, at the edge of his chestplate. 

“Don’t.” She warned him before walking over to her husband.

She waited until he’d finished his prayer before slipping her arm around his waist. She glanced down at the dwarves and shuddered. Huge chunks had been torn from their body. She wondered if the darkspawn had been eating them and immediately decided she didn’t actually want to know. 

“Come.” She said, and led him away from the corpses. 

Sebastian let her. As foul as the darkspawn had been in every tale he’d heard the reality of them was fouler still. A fitting punishment for those who had defiled the Golden City, he supposed but still. He couldn’t help a small shudder. He saw Anabel giving him a concerned frown. 

He gave her a small smile. “I wish my parents could see me now. They always said I had "no sense of the dignity of my station." Now, here I am, traipsing around the Deep Roads like a common soldier...”

“If you could bring your family back from the dead, that's what you'd want? For them to be disappointed in you?” She asked with an arch of her brow.

Sebastian had to laugh. “How else would I know it's really them?” 

“I think they’d be much more disappointed that you’d married someone who dragged you down into the Deep Roads in the first place.” She told him.

He couldn't resist leaning down and kissing her lightly.. “No one could be disappointed in you. Even my parents would be impressed.”

She went up on her toes and gave him a kiss in return. “I'm not as certain of that as you.” She peered around him and frowned. “What is that?” She asked and walked past him to one of the shields that hung on the wall. There were three indentations on the bottom of it, but one was filled with a sort of glowing orb. She opened her mouth to speak and Anders called from across the chamber. 

“Hawke. Come take a look at this.” 

She and Sebastian crossed to where he stood.

It was a cell with a barrier very much like the one that had sealed the stairs but with two glowing orbs hovering in it. Two glowing orbs identical to the one in the shield they’d just left. 

“It’s a shade.” Said Anders. “Trapped here.”

She walked closer. Two glowing orbs and a space for another. 

As they got closer, a disembodied voice could suddenly be heard. 

_“Be bound here for eternity, hunger stilled rage smothered, desire dampened, pride crushed. In the name of the Maker so let it be.”_

Boy whimpered and cocked his head at the sound of the voice. Anabel had frozen in place and when she looked over she found Carver looking at her. Neither of them said anything but she knew what he was thinking. It had sounded like Da. Even Boy had recognized it. That was impossible.

Another glowing orb on another shield caught her eye. She walked over and touched it this time. It disappeared.

Anders turned to her. “What did you just do? One of the orbs disappeared.”

She didn’t answer, but turned back towards that first shield. She reached up and touched it and it too vanished.

“Hawke!” Anders called out. “Whatever you’re doing is weakening this barrier.” 

She ran back. The barrier did seem thinner. The second orb had disappeared but there was now one in the space that had been empty before. 

“Have you ever seen magic like this?” 

“No.” Anders said shortly.

“Have you Fenris?” She asked turning to him.

Fenris looked uncomfortable as he always did when asked about the magic he had witnessed in Tevinter. “I’ve seen demons trapped. What I’ve seen was similar but not the same.”

She stared at the barrier and the shade beyond. “I say remove it and destroy the shade.” She said finally. “It’s only one. What’s one less shade?” Before anyone could offer an argument against it, she reached out and touched it. It vanished and with a sort of shudder the barrier disappeared as well.

Anabel had her weapons ready but the shade didn’t even seem to realize it was free. It made no movement.

Anabel gave the others a puzzled look. “What…” she started to say and then out of nowhere there were more than a dozen shades attacking them from behind. She turned to deal with them and the shade that had been trapped lunged at her from behind and for a few minutes it was all she could do to avoid their attacks. Again she could only be thankful that she’d brought everyone along. When the last of them was defeated she stood there breathing heavily, her hands on her knees.

Carver stormed over to her. “What the fuck is it with you? ‘It’s only one’. When has it ever been only one anything attacking us?”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know he had friends?” She demanded. 

Carver’s mouth dropped open but before he could shout back at her, that voice they had heard before boomed out again.

_I could do nothing about the Wardens use of demons in this horrid place but I will have no one say that any magic of mine ever released them into the world._

It seemed to come from a dark blue haze, almost like smoke, hovering there in a vaguely man like form that dissipated, seeming to drift away even as the echo of the voice died. 

She and Carver stared at each other.

“Who was that? I feel like I know that voice.” Carver sounded as shaky as she suddenly felt. Boy butted his head against him, as if her were trying to comfort him.

“It sounded like Da.” Anabel said. “How is that even possible? Can you bind yourself, your thoughts into a spell like that?” 

No one seemed to have the answer.

Carver was staring at the now empty cell. “He said the Wardens used demons.” 

“I suppose they must have if they used blood magic.” Anabel said. She didn’t find the idea any easier to accept than Carver. 

He seemed to shake himself. “Let's keep going. I want some answers.”

They rounded the next corner and found themselves at the bridge to the tower itself. A figure straightened up from the rubble and at first Anabel thought it was another Darkspawn but as it came closer she saw it was a man, or had been once. She could see signs of the taint in him, the same film over his eyes. He was thin and gaunt and his armor hung loosely on him. He’d lost several teeth and clumps of his hair had fallen from his head. When he saw them he shuffled closer.

“Did they find it?” He asked in a voice as ragged as the rest of him. “The Key? I heard them digging. The dwarves.” 

Anabel tried to swallow her revulsion. “The Key. You mean this?” She held the weapon up in front of her. “How is it a Key?” She asked carefully. They’d all assumed it was the Key, but they had no idea how it was supposed to work. Maybe this creature could tell them.

His eyes seemed to glow when he saw it. “Old magic. Magic from the blood. It made the seals. It can destroy them.” 

“Are you Corypheus?” It didn't seem likely. He seemed barely coherent.

He became agitated. “Do not say his name! He will hear you. Do not wake him! Not when you hold the Key!”

So, not Corypheus. She supposed it would have been too easy. “The barrier sealed behind us. Do you know a way out?”

He shook his head in that same shuffling way. “No. No way out. The Wardens build their prisons well. If the center holds who cares what else it trapped?” He stared up at the tower.

“I don’t think we’re getting any help here, Hawke.” Said Varric.

The man’s head whipped towards her. “Hawke? You are Hawke?” With a speed he hadn’t shown before he was suddenly in front of her, his face just inches from hers. Boy's hackles rose and he let out a low growl, but the man didn't seem to hear it. “Yes, yes. I smell the magic on you. In you.” He said.

“You mean because our father was a mage?” Carver demanded. He put a reassuring hand on Boy, who stopped growling but kept a watchful on the man.

The man barely glanced at Carver. “Our father? No. You are not a mage.” He seemed to dismiss him.

“Check again you crazy bastard. Neither is she.” 

The man ignored him. “Yes. You have the key. The magic. You have to let it out. You have the Key to his death. I can show you out. Yes. Let the magic out.” He reached out as if he would touch her and she couldn’t help flinching back to avoid it. 

“What are you? What are you doing here?” Her voice sounded more alarmed than she would have liked.

He drew himself up seemingly offended by her drawing back from him. “You ask me that? I belong here, not you. You are no darkspawn. But I smell it.” He turned to look at Carver. “You.” He said and he turned slowly to look at Anders who had hung back a bit. “And you. Can you feel it?” He asked Anders. “Can you hear him?” He began muttering to himself. “Wardens, guardians against the Blight. Down in the depths. Not up. Not up. Down and in. Down and in.” He turned back to Hawke suddenly. “I can help you.” 

Hawke gave him a dubious look. “Because I always like to follow the advice of tainted crazy people?” She asked.

He seemed surprised by her words. “No.” His voice was strangely earnest. “Not crazy. I can help. Trust me. Not up. Down. Down and through the heart. All the seals. Touch them with the Key. Only then they open. Only for the Hawke.” He turned suddenly and shuffled across the bridge still muttering. “Down and in. Down and in.”

For a moment they all stared after him.

It was Merrill who finally spoke. “You know, I don’t think that man is entirely well.” 

“Well he seems reliable.” Said Varric, with a false cheeriness. “Let’s all follow the crazy man, shall we?”

“I can’t say we have any other option right now.” Hawke admitted. 

The crossed the bridge. When they reached the tower Anabel bent down and picked up a thin volume that lay there, more of a pamphlet than a book.

 _The Warden’s Prison_ was scrawled on the front of it. She flipped through it, and then stopped. She seemed to go pale.

“Anabel?” asked Sebastian.

She looked up at him and mutely handed over the open book pointing to a passage.

Sebastian read it out loud:

_The Grey Wardens' prison in the Vimmark Mountains is believed to have been constructed more than a thousand years ago. The original method of construction has been lost to history, but the Warden-Commanders of the Free Marches have maintained the prison's secret through the centuries._

_The prison is concealed in a great rift in the Vimmark Mountains, far from any easily-traveled mountain passes. The Wardens themselves have spread rumors of banditry and beasts to prevent explorers from approaching._

_The prison consists of a central tower built into the rift with magically-maintained bridges allowing access at different levels. Each level is sealed by a blood magic ritual in which a mage of untainted blood uses his own life essence to create a magical barrier that is permeable from the outside yet impenetrable from within. This one-way access has caused other darkspawn—and perhaps unwary travelers—to be caught within the prison's confines. Those who disappear inside never re-emerge._

Sebastian finished reading and looked up at Anabel.

“An untainted mage uses his own life essence to seal it.” She repeated numbly. “More life essence.” She closed her eyes. “Oh Da. Why? What was so important here that you would do that?”

Carver was staring at her in confusion. “What are you talking about? You think Da was the mage who did this for them?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Of course Da was that mage! Why do you think they came after us? Because it was his blood that made the seals. It’s his blood, our blood that’s needed to break them.”

He looked dumbfounded. “Shit.”

“Yes, that does just about sum up the situation.” She agreed with a scowl. “Come on. Let’s see if we can find these seals.” She pushed past him heading towards the door to the tower itself.

Massive griffon statues flanked both the doorway they entered and the exit, which was blocked by another barrier. More griffon shields hung from the walls and tattered blue and silver banners dangled above them.

Anabel gave a small snort. “The Wardens do like their griffons don’t they? Do you ever get tired of it?” She asked Carver. “You know, feel the need to bring in a kitten or a parrot or something, just for variety?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, but turned to the center of the room. There was a large circular platform there with four short pillars placed around it at even intervals. She raised an eyebrow and turned to the others. “The seal, do you think?”

“These pillars are inscribed.” Fenris commented, bending forward to get a closer look. 

Anabel had moved closer the platform. “There’s some kind of mark in the center here as well.” She stepped onto it and with an impossibly loud roar of sound that left her ears ringing painfully, a demon appeared, towering directly above her, black and monstrous, its skin cracked and glowing orange through those cracks. It seemed to pulse and then vanished, releasing a wave of energy that sent those closest to it flying back from the platform before reappearing at the opposite side of the chamber. Carver and Fenris both went charging at it.

It was the most brutal fight they’d had yet, made worse by the creature’s ability to disappear and reappear. When they finally defeated it fell with a crash that shook the whole floor.

Hawke straightened up from the crouch she’d landed in. A movement caught her eye and she looked over to see the man from earlier standing there. She wondered if he’d simply watched the whole fight. “Let me guess, the first seal?” She asked.

His eyes seemed almost to glow through the corruption. “Two thousand years it holds, never opens. Let it take the magic back, absorb it.” He said eagerly. “All that came before.” He gave a grimace of a smile revealing his missing teeth.

Anders turned away, horrified and feeling vaguely ill at this sight of this corrupted creature, barely even a man anymore. This was how he would end up if the Templars didn’t kill him first. This was what he had to look forward to. He barely noticed as Hawke walked around the platform, looking at each of the four columns that surrounded it.

Anabel didn’t know why she was looking so carefully. She had no idea what any of the symbols meant. She had no idea what breaking the seal would do. Would she be simply unlocking the way out, or was this poor bastard lying to them, or simply mad.

She simply had no other options. She reached out with the Key and hesitated. Something that had been said seemed to nag at the back of her head. The Key hovered just above one of the pillars. 

“Touch it.” Said the creature. “Break the seal. Take the magic back.”

Anders was at the far end of the room, as far away as he could get from them without leaving the chamber, but at those words his head shot up. 

_Sealed with blood. Malcolm Hawke’s blood. Break the seal. Take the magic back. All the magic._

The realization of just what that might mean slammed into him and he shouted out, “Hawke, don’t!” just as she touched the key to the pillar.

The pillar began to glow and then the whole platform. Anabel could feel the magic leave the seal and start to travel into the Key, filling it, permeating it, soaking into it traveling down the weapon’s handle. It hesitated, seeming to gather there, pulsating almost, and then it reached out to her almost brushing against her fingertips, as if it was testing her, feeling for something. There was a sudden rush of magic, of something, as if it were trying to tear into her or tear something free, and acting on pure instinct she lashed back at it with a smite. The magic recoiled back into the weapon, and as she flung it to the ground, into her, reverberating through her and she could only gasp in shock. It was like being suddenly submerged in ice water but the sensation wasn’t cold – it didn’t take heat away but something much more basic, much more vital. She fell to her hands and knees, trying to support herself and unable to do so. She dropped to the ground, completely drained. Not just tired but empty somehow. The hand that had held the weapon was strangely cold, almost to the point of numbness. She lay there face down, shaking, trying to remember how to breathe. Sebastian and Carver reached her simultaneously with Anders close behind. 

Sebastian pulled her up and half on his lap and she tried to give him a reassuring smile, but she didn’t feel like she quite had enough control of her muscles to have pulled it off successfully. It was much easier to rest her head against him, and simply try to breathe again.

“What the fuck just happened?" Carver demanded, as Anders reached them.

Anders ignored him and dropped to his knees beside Hawke. He sent out a pulse of magic, frowned, and sent out another, and couldn’t help the smile that came to his face.

“I think I missed the joke.” She said weakly. “I’m with Carver on this one. What the fuck just happened?”

“The Key takes back the magic. It breaks the seals made with your father’s blood and takes back the magic.”

She frowned, not understanding.

“The prison isn’t the only thing here sealed with your father’s blood, Hawke.”

Her eyes went round. “You mean when Da blocked my magic?”

He nodded. “My guess is that the Key tried to break more than one seal just now.”

She tried to ignore the nervous thudding of her heart, tried not to panic, tried to focus on what Anders had just said. “It tried to break the seal. Not succeeded?”

His smile broadened. “You tell me. What did you do when you felt it start to go into you?”

She’d released a smite. She tried to figure out what he was getting at but she felt so utterly wiped out it was hard to even focus. What was wrong with her? She felt absolutely drained. Her eyes flew open and she stared at Anders. “You’re kidding me.” She said in disbelief. She started laughing weakly and Anders joined in, as the others looked on in confusion. “You’re telling me I smited myself?” 

“Yes. Templar and mage both in one small package.” 

“Oh, Maker. I feel like crap right now.” She was still laughing though. 

“Yes. Believe me when I say, I know exactly how you feel. Just rest for a few minutes. It does pass.” He got to his feet and examined the four pillars. “These are symbols for elemental magic.”

Fenris was glaring at him. “Something that might have been helpful to know before Hawke tried to break the seal.”

Anders ignored him and went back to Hawke, taking the hand that had been holding the key between his, and then taking the other to compare. Her right hand was definitely colder.”

“The pillar I touched was ‘cold’ wasn’t’ it.” She asked.

“Yes.” He seemed to be thinking.

“Did I block it in time?” She asked as he stood and went over to pick up the weapon.

It was coated with frost. “I think so.” Was her hand cold from the weapon or from something else? And did that mean the Key was just trying to break the seals Malcolm Hawke had put on Hawke’s magic, or was it trying to give her back the magic it sensed was missing. 

Or both?

Could an enchanted item be that aware?

Anabel was watching his face carefully. “You’re thinking too hard.” She told him. “Out with it.”

He sighed. “It’s just a theory. Not even a theory. A possibility. A small one.”

“Anders.” She interrupted. “Tell me. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

He told her.

For a moment she didn’t say anything. “So if the Key did break the seal, even if it just cracked it for lack of a better term, does that mean my magic could come leaking out?” 

He considered it. “I don’t think so. It might have weakened it but unless it’s broken I don’t think you’ll suddenly be able to do magic.” 

She gave him a dubious look. “That wasn’t very convincing, you know.” 

“Maker’s tits, Hawke, this is magic that I’ve never heard of let alone encountered. All I’ve got is theories. Your magic seems to be very close to your father’s in a lot of ways. How was he at elemental magic?”

“He could do it, but it wasn’t a strength. It gave him trouble when he tried to train Bethany.”

“How were his ice spells?” Anders asked carefully.

“Weak. He could cool things but not freeze them. He used to joke about wanting enough elemental magic to be able make ice cream in summer, do you remember Carver?”

Carver gave a small half smile. “Yeah. Do you remember how he’d make his hand cold whenever one of us got a bruise or a black eye? Maybe you’ll be able to do that. You know, something useful for once.”

She smiled back at him. “Ass.”

His face was suddenly serious. “I felt something when it opened – the seal I mean. In my blood. All through me. Is that what you felt?” He asked her.

“Yes. It’s not a particularly comfortable feeling, is it?”

“No.” He said shortly.

She turned back to Anders. “Should I try to use it or let it be?” 

“Well thanks to your smite I don’t think you’d be able to use it right now even if you did try, but let it be. If we're lucky your elemental magic is similar to your fathers, and it won't be strong enough to actually break through any of the seals. But there are more seals ahead. Assuming they’re of a similar design, let’s choose carefully the next time.”

“Agreed.” She told him. She looked over her shoulder at Sebastian. “Help me up?”

“You’re certain you’re well enough?” He asked carefully.

“To stand? I think so.”

She looked better now, and there was some color back in her cheeks, so he got to his feet, and pulled her gently to hers. She dusted herself off and he watched her, wondering how, after all they’d been through down here she could still look so lovely. She glanced up and caught the look and smiled at him. “Yours.” She said softly.

He smiled back. “Yours.” He agreed, and for just that moment they might have been completely alone there. 

The tainted man shambled eagerly forwards. “It is good. The blood works?”

She frowned at him as she took the Key from Anders hands. The barrier leading out of the chamber had vanished, so what this man had told them seemed at least to be true. “All this talk about my blood is a little creepy. Are you at least planning on telling me your name?”

He seemed more surprised by the question than by anything else they’d said so far. “Name? Name. It has been long since I had a name.” He appeared to think about it. “Name. Larius. Yes, that was it.” 

Carver had stepped up behind her and Larius’ eyes went to him. “I was a warden. I am dead but I didn’t die.” He said, staring at the griffon on Carver’s armor.

For the first time she noticed that he wore an identical griffon, though the style of his armor was different. “You were a Warden?” Sweet Andraste, what had happened to him? She was about to ask when Anders interrupted.

“What happened just now? What does the Key do exactly? What sort of magic is this?”

“The magic.” Larius repeated. “It calls to the blood, reads the thoughts of those who hold it. The Hawke was the last to hold it. I was there.” He seemed surprised by the memory. “I was there” He said more definitely. “Before I became this.” He seemed to focus on Anabel, to actually see her for the first time. “You favor him.” He told her and turned and shuffled away again. 

“Maker’s breath.” Said Sebastian, staring after him. “The horrors that men can suffer and still keep walking. What do you suppose happened to him? Was he tainted?”

Anabel was frowning. “It couldn’t be that. The Wardens are immune to the taint.” 

_I belong here, not you. You are no Darkspawn._ And then he’d turned to Carver and to Anders. _But I smell it … you, and you._

She whirled around to face Carver. “What was he talking about? And why was he wearing Grey Warden armor? Why did he say he was a Darkspawn and you were the same?” She demanded. 

She saw Carver swallow and then look over at Anders. After a moment Anders shrugged and looked away. Carver turned back to her.

“I thought you were immune to the taint.” She said.

She saw his jaw clench before he spoke. “We have a thing, the Joining. We drink a potion with Darkspawn blood in it. It isn’t a cure for the taint, it just postpones it. It lets us sense the Darkspawn and hear the archdemon during a Blight. In time we start to hear voices. That’s when they send you into the Deep Roads, to die.” 

For a moment she could only stare at him in horror. Then she turned to look out the door Larius had left by. “That’s what happens to you eventually?” She asked, turning back to him.

Carver was staring in the same direction and didn’t look at her. “His corruption… it’s worse than they said. I’d want to be dead. I never thought I’d see that.”

“How long?” She asked. 

Carver couldn't meet her eye.

“About thirty years.” Said Anders. “Give or take.” 

She couldn’t speak, just nodded slowly. She looked around. The others looked equally horrified. 

No wonder Carver had hated her.

She felt his hand on her arm and looked up at him.

“Stop it.” He told her firmly. “I was angry at first, but it’s not your fault. That’s why I’m still alive. To stop that.” He said pointing towards the door.

She nodded, forcing herself to smile through the tears that suddenly filled her eyes. “And dumb luck.” She said. “That’s the other reason you’re alive.”

“Ass.” He said, but he had a small smile on his face. “Credit where it’s due I suppose.”

“Jerk.” She leaned her head against his chestplate for a minute and he awkwardly patted her back. “We wardens will save the world.” He told her. “And you? I guess you’ll amount to something. Maybe.”

She couldn’t help laughing as she straightened up. “I do my best, brother mine.” She turned and walked over to Anders who had left the group.

Carver watched her and then looked down when Isabela appeared beside him, going up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

At his puzzled look she smiled. “I always did like a man in uniform.”

A grin appeared on his face. “You sure you wouldn't like a man out of uniform better?” He asked her.

Isabela just blinked at him. “I... hmm.”

Carver’s grin deepened. “Life's so full of hard choices, isn't it?”

 

Anders watched as Anabel walked over to him. She didn’t say a thing just slid her arms around him and hugged him close. “I’m so sorry.” She murmured against his chest.

He’d thought she might be angry with him. “What do you have to be sorry about?”

“Carver had the taint. He was dying anyway. They just took you. Fucking wardens.”

And the curse was so heartfelt and such a perfect echo of his own thoughts that he couldn’t help laughing. “The templars probably would have killed me or made me tranquil if Nell Cousland hadn’t invoked the Right of Conscription. You could claim I would have died without it I suppose.” But a part of him welcomed her outrage and her sympathy. He couldn’t say he’d ever gotten either before, not about becoming a Warden. “Sometimes I almost forget what it means to be a Grey Warden but that? That made it hit home.” He admitted.

Her arms just tightened around him. “They don’t tell you beforehand do they? That it’ll kill you in the end? That you become tainted yourself?”

He hesitated, but realized she knew so many Warden secrets already that one more probably wouldn’t make any difference. “No, they don’t.”

“Bastards.” She muttered. 

He put his hands on her shoulders, pushing her back a bit so he could look at her face. There were a few tears on her cheeks, and he brushed them away with is thumb. “Carver will do well in the Wardens. He’s got the temperament for it. And they seem to be leaving me alone for now. Let’s concentrate on finding this Corypheus and getting out of here? Okay?”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “What did Larius mean when he asked if you could hear him?”

He should have known she would have picked up on that. “Corypheus. He’s calling out. To the taint I think.”

She frowned. “Like the archdemon? How could he even do that? Could the other talking Darkspawn you met do that?”

“No.” He admitted. “But that letter claimed Corypheus was the most powerful talking Darkspawn.”

“Was Larius right? Are you hearing him?”

He sighed. “Faintly. If it gets worse I’ll tell you.”

She didn’t look as if she entirely believed him. “Do you promise?”

“Yes. I promise.” She was still such a child sometime. Demanding promises and believing them. She turned and walked away, and the voice he’d been hearing since they’d first seen the tower buzzed in the back of his brain. _Shut up._ He told it. _I’m not listening_.

 

Anabel walked back to Sebastian, her mind reeling with what she’d discovered. She looked up to find him watching her and she didn’t even hesitate, just walked into his arms. He held her and stroked her hair. 

“Are you all right?” He asked.

“Don’t get tainted while we’re down here, okay? I don’t think I could face the idea of losing another man I love to the taint, not today.” 

“I’ll do my best.” He promised her.

 

The left the chamber shortly after that, crossing another bridge almost identical to the first but more littered with debris. Anabel led the way, with Sebastian beside her. About halfway across she spotted something on the ground and ran to it, crouching down to pick it up. As she did Sebastian heard the dull clang of metal against stone.

He looked across the bridge. What he had assumed was another discarded shield was moving, lifting once and then twice and then it turned revealing a Darkspawn larger than any they'd encountered yet, and the shield itself was iron, covered with lethal spikes and as big as the Darkspawn itself, absolutely massive. It lifted it as if it were made of tin and brought it slamming down on the bridge with a resounding crash. 

Sebastian saw Anabel scramble to her feet, and saw the thing charge faster than anything that big should be able to charge and he didn’t even think.

He rushed forward, shoving her out of the way, seeing her slam into the wall, only having a brief second to pray that she was all right before the shield hit him. 

He felt one spike slam into his thigh and the other into his chest and realized that it was perhaps a blessing because it lessened the impact of the iron shield itself and then any rational thought vanished under a torrent of white hot pain the like of which he’d never experienced before.

He felt himself lifted up and the creature roared and shook the shield to free Sebastian from it and then he was airborne and landing on the ground, unable to move or even cry out. He dimly heard the sounds of battle and the others shouting and then a loud crash. He heard Anabel calling his name, and then hands were on him turning him so he lay face up. 

Anabel was above him looking absolutely terrified, and then Anders was there, shouting orders.

“Get that chestplate off him. No we don’t have time to unbuckle it cut it off. Aveline, get a tourniquet on his leg, as high above the wound as you can.” 

He couldn’t seem to focus on any one of them. It was hard to breathe, and when he did there seemed to be a strange sort of sucking noise, bubbling almost. 

They’d taken his chestplate off and he could make out Anabel’s bright curls as she cut open his chain mail coat and the shirt he wore beneath it. Then Anders was there pushing it aside. Sebastian coughed and tasted blood.

He heard Anders curse, but it sounded far away. 

“Hawke put your hands here. Keep pressure on it.” 

There was a sharp stab of pain in his chest and his mouth filled with blood, and he coughed again, feeling it spray from his mouth. He could see Anabel now, and knew it was her hands on the chest wound. He could hear that same sucking sound when he gasped for breath. 

He saw a dim blue glow and realized Anders must be healing his leg. He wondered dimly why that wound was worse than the one in his chest. He should tell them how hard it was to breathe he thought dimly. He looked at Anabel. Tears were streaming down her face. He’d never seen her look so scared.

“You stay with me, Sebastian Vael.” She told him. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

Even like this she was so beautiful. There was so much he wanted to tell her. To explain. It was harder to breathe now. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. He choked again and the blood gushed out of his mouth this time. He heard Anabel scream his name. 

And it all went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	20. Fuel for Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders struggles to heal Sebastian and Anabel offers unexpected help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> possible trigger warning: discussions of past spousal and child abuse in this chapter.

She pressed her hand against Sebastian’s chest wound the way Anders had shown her, trying to ignore the sucking sound and the bubbles frothing up around her hands that let her know just how badly his lung had been torn up. Tears were streaming down her face, and she cursed herself for being so weak that she couldn’t stop them. She could cry later. Right now they needed to save Sebastian.

She glanced up at his face and found him staring at her, his eyes glazed with what must be unimaginable pain. There was blood on his mouth and chin from where he’d coughed it up before. It was getting harder for him to breathe, she could tell. “You stay with me, Sebastian Vael.” She told him. “Don’t you dare leave me.” 

A myriad of emotions went through his eyes in spite of the pain he must be in. Love, sadness, regret. “I’m sorry.” He said softly. 

_Sorry?_ Before she could question it, he coughed again but this time there was a gush of scarlet from his mouth. It hit her hands, hot and slick. She screamed his name as his eyes closed and his head fell back and to the side. No. He wasn’t dead. He couldn't be.

Anders had been working on his leg where the spike had torn the artery in Sebastian’s thigh. His head jerked up when Hawke screamed. When he saw the blood and realized Sebastian was hemorrhaging, he scrambled up, pushing Hawke out of the way. She sat where she’d landed looking absolutely terrified, tears still streaming down her face, her hands covered in Vael’s blood. He’d been so worried about the blood Sebastian was losing from the tear to his femoral artery that he hadn’t had a chance to assess the damage to his chest and lung. He sent out a pulse of magic. _Fuck_. His lung was collapsed; collapsed wasn’t even the right word. It was practically in tatters. Four ribs, each with multiple breaks. _Fuck_.

He opened his eyes to ask for lyrium and Hawke was already there, holding an uncorked potion in front of him. He downed it and turned back to Sebastian. “Keep them ready.” He ordered. Sebastian was barely breathing, and his heart rate was slowing. That strong bright heat that he’d felt from Sebastian when he’d healed him before was fading, and quickly. For a brief second he couldn’t even think of where to begin. What would it do to Hawke if Sebastian died? He couldn’t let that happen. He forced himself to focus. 

The lung. Get the lung working again. Then focus on the other injuries, but even just fixing the lung was a daunting task. He put his hand over the gaping. blood soaked wound and began to work.

Anabel sat there handing him potion after potion. Watched as Anders managed to get Sebastian’s lung working and then as it collapsed again. Watched as the supply of lyrium potions they carried began to dwindle. 

She wanted to scream at her father for having taken her magic from her. If she had been as strong as everyone seemed to think she would have been, if she had inherited even a small part of Da’s healing talent, she could have been helping Anders right now instead of sitting here watching as he drained himself, and watching Sebastian die.

Even thinking the word strengthened her determination. She wasn’t going to let that happen. She suddenly heard Anders words from earlier about the possibility of the Key not just breaking the seal but giving her back the magic she was missing. Anders hadn’t thought it had succeeded but he hadn’t been certain. What if…

She got to her knees, shoving the potions at Fenris who had been kneeling by Sebastian’s legs, looking as devastated as she had ever seen him. Sebastian was his friend, had been the first true friend he’d had after Hawke. “Have them ready.” She ordered him. 

Fenris looked puzzled but nodded. She’d never been more grateful for his simple acceptance of what she did, for the fact he never asked unnecessary questions. She scrambled to Sebastian’s other side offering a silent prayer that this would work. She reached out shaking hands and placed them on his side, and reached inside herself trying to find some trace of the magic that she knew was there, sealed away, cut off.

At first she felt nothing. She reached out further. She could feel Anders’ magic, as familiar to her as Da’s now, and that cool blue of Justice. Merrill’s, earthy and green and tangled as a deep forest, light and dappled at the top but darker at the bottom where the sun had trouble reaching. And Fenris’ markings that seemed to almost hum the way the lyrium potions did. She could sense the magic in the various enchantments on the weapons and staffs they carried. The Key seemed to pulse beside her like an almost living thing.

She couldn’t sense any magic in herself and she gave an almost growl of frustration. What good was this talent to her? This talent that only pushed magic away? Even if she didn’t have Da’s healing powers, any of other magical ability might have helped them, might have stopped that thing before it impaled Sebastian on its shield. Elemental magic like ice or fire, Creation magic like haste or paralysis, or even Arcane magic that would let you put a barrier around someone to protect them or would let you crush an enemy. All her magic did was block magic, push magic back… 

Her head suddenly shot up. All other magic talents were opposites, both ends of a spectrum. What if hers was too? What if in addition to blocking magic she could feed it as well? Fuel it? Her heart began to race at the idea. Was there enough magic in her to be able to do that? 

“Potion.” Anders said not opening his eyes. Fenris handed it to him and he drank it down without even realizing she wasn’t the one who had given it to him.

Mages and templars both took lyrium to enhance their abilities.

_Templar and mage both, in one small package._

Fenris had just uncorked another potion and she grabbed it from him and drank it down before she could talk herself out of it.

It was bitter. Somehow she hadn’t expected that and then it hit her. It was as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown on her, one that didn't just wake her up and take her breath away – it did that, no question, but it was also as if it washed away a coating of dust and grime over clear glass. Everything was suddenly clearer and more defined. Where she’d had to reach for the other’s magic it seemed to flare out in front of her now. 

How had Anders taught her to block her magic that first time in the Holding Caves? _A wall, put a wall up and lower it down just enough to sense the blood magic._

She didn’t need a wall now. She didn’t need a dam. She needed a channel. She needed to give her magic, her mana to Anders so he could keep healing Sebastian. She closed her eyes and put her hand over Anders’. 

_A channel_ , she thought, trying to picture it. _A conduit, like the ones the Tevinter empire had built that still brought water into Kirkwall._

At first it didn’t seem to be working. She couldn’t feel anything, There wasn't anything to channel. She willed herself to relax, not to force it but to reach out and coax it, to clear a path for it. To let it flow.

And then it was there: just a trickle, sluggish and uncertain, but there and she pushed it gently towards Anders.

She felt his hand stiffen beneath hers. She could feel Justice suddenly sharper and more alert. 

“Hawke?” 

She didn’t answer. Something wasn’t working properly. It was as if the connection was wrong, like trying to fill a watering can through the spout instead of the opening. She put both her hands on Anders, and it was better but still not enough to be of use to him. How did you put magic into a mage? 

And suddenly the image of Karl with the tranquil brand red and angry on his forehead appeared in her mind. The brand was on the forehead. When you cut a mage’s connection to the Fade you branded their forehead. What if it wasn’t just for show, to make people see what had been done? 

She lifted her hand and put her palm lightly against Anders’ forehead. 

And the connection was immediately there, from somewhere inside her a steady flow of her magic or mana, of her, flowed into him.

Anders eyes shot open. “What are you doing?” He asked hoarsely. It was as if she was pouring that warm glow she had into him, as if instead of him putting his magic into her the flow had suddenly switched around and he knew what it was in an instant: instead of blocking magic she was feeding it.

That wasn’t possible.

Her breath was coming quickly, and her lips were parted. “Take it.” She said faintly. “Use it. Heal him.” 

It was flowing into him like the purest lyrium. He could feel it feeding his mana, feel her all through him and if he had reveled in the feel of her when he healed her this was a hundred times more than that, but Maker, what was this going to do to her? “Hawke I can’t…” 

Beneath his hands Sebastian’s heart give an irregular series of spasms. He was going into cardiac arrest. He immediately turned his attention back to the man.

Anabel didn’t know what was happening but she felt Anders’ magic suddenly focus on Sebastian pulling hers along with it and she could vaguely sense that jagged wrongness that Anders had talked about sensing when he healed and it actually hurt to feel it and she knew from Anders response that it wasn’t supposed to hurt. Sebastian was just that badly injured, that close to dying. “Take it!” She screamed, and she shoved it at him with all her might. 

It slammed into him with a white hot rush of power and he automatically thrust it into his magic and that magic into Sebastian’s heart and lungs and felt them knitting together faster and more precisely than he had ever felt his magic heal before. He felt the lung fill with air, heard Sebastian gasp as he pulled his ribs back into place, almost effortlessly matching the pieces together, for once able to heal without having to worry that his mana would run out because she was a seemingly endless source of fuel. 

He dimly heard the others, but he couldn’t have said if they were whispering or shouting because all that mattered was using his magic, testing it seeing what he could do with it when there was no limit to what was fueling it. 

Sebastian’s ribs were perfectly healed now and he brought the skin back over it so smoothly and perfectly he knew there wouldn’t be more than the faintest scar if indeed there were any at all. He turned his attention to the wound on Sebastian’s thigh, and didn’t even have to move his hands, could just send his magic traveling down, and he noticed as he did that the familiar blue glow of it was brighter and hotter and he could see it beneath Sebastian’s skin as he watched the scar that he’d left there disappear. Why was he be able to see the glow?

_It is her. She glows so very brightly._

Justice sounded almost drunk and that alone sent alarm bells ringing. Anders looked at Hawke and she was actually glowing almost the way Fenris glowed when he used his marking but her glow seemed to come from inside her skin.

He realized the others were shouting, arguing about what to do. Fenris was yelling in Tevene and seemed more agitated than any of them. Anders knew just enough of the language to understand the gist of what the elf was saying.

_“He’s going to kill her if we don’t stop him.”_

He turned to back to Hawke and realized the hand on his forehead was shaking. He looked past the glow and saw she was drenched in sweat, her hair damp with it, that her lips were so pale they were almost white. Tears were streaming down her face and her breath was coming in harsh gasps. “Take it.” She said her voice barely audible. “Save him.”

Still she was pushing her magic into him. 

Holy Maker what had he done? He pushed it back at her, jerking away from her hand on his forehead and either he was so strong or she so weak that just that broke the connection.

Hawke collapsed with a sob and Fenris was there gathering her close holding her murmuring soothingly to her, still in Tevene, as she wept weakly against him.

Carver grabbed Anders by his pauldrons, hauling him to his feet. “What the fuck were you doing to her?”

“She was giving me mana.” He stammered still trying to understand how that was possible.

“Giving.” Snarled Fenris. “You were taking. You are no better than the magisters.” He shifted Hawke so that his body was between her and Anders, as if he were afraid that Anders would try to do it again. 

“No.” To his surprise it was Aveline who spoke in his defense. “We all heard her tell him to take it. It was Hawke who initiated….whatever that was. Let go of him, Carver.”

To Anders’ surprise Carver did. “She was giving you mana? Like a lyrium potion does?” Carver asked.

“I don’t know how she was doing it, but she was. And it worked. She saved him.” 

They looked down at Sebastian. If not for the blood that still covered him, and the torn clothing he might have been sleeping. 

“When did she learn to do that?” Merrill asked in awe.

“I’m fairly certain just now. And being Hawke she just had to do too much.” Anders looked over at her, still held protectively in Fenris arms. He suspected if he moved any closer the elf might try and rip his heart from his chest, and he thought he knew why. “Will she be all right?” He asked. 

Fenris looked up at him with a look of pure hatred in his eyes. “The pain will lessen soon. She will need to rest for several hours. Perhaps longer.” 

Anders nodded. He knelt down beside Sebastian again, sending out a pulse of magic to make certain everything was all right. It was stronger than he had intended, still fueled by what Hawke had done. The prince was healed, in perfect shape. That feel of him was the same as it had been at Hawke’s, warmth and shelter, heat and sanctuary…

The memory that had eluded him came rushing back. 

_Sanctuary_. He felt his throat grow tight, and he had to blink back tears. If he’d had to pick one memory to forget forever that would have been it.

He got to his feet and found Varric watching him carefully.

“You okay Blondie?” He asked nonchalantly.

“Yes.” He said curtly. “We should move them back into the chamber I think, make camp for the night.” 

“Sure.” Said Varric, still watching him. “Sounds reasonable.” 

Carver and Aveline lifted Sebastian between them and carried him back to the chamber. 

Anders turned to look at Hawke again. Her eyes were closed but he knew she wasn’t asleep. He could see tears still rolling down her face but it was as if she no longer had the energy to weep even. Fenris seemed entirely focused on her, holding her as gently as possible, not touching her any more than was necessary, and though he was still murmuring softly to her, he wasn’t stroking her back or hair and Anders didn’t think it was Fenris’ aversion to touch that was the cause of that.

“You need help bringing Hawke back in here, elf?” Varric asked and Anders could only be grateful that he’d asked the question for him.

Fenris didn’t look up. “Not yet. The pain is still too great for her to be moved.” 

Anders let Varric push him back towards the chamber. He didn’t stay in there but went out the other door to the edge of the broken walkway. He sank down and buried his head against his knees.

Aveline came back to help Isabela and Merrill gather up the discarded weapons and Sebastian’s armor. 

“I think this is a total loss.” Aveline commented as she lifted the dented chestplate.

“Oh, what a pity. It was such pretty armor.” Said Merrill. She gave a sudden gasp. “Isabela!” She said in a reproving voice. 

Aveline turned around with a frown. She could hear something clanging down the chasm.

“It fell.” Isabela said innocently.

Aveline frowned at her. “Just what ‘fell’?” She asked suspiciously.

“Sebastian’s belt.” Said Merrill. “The one we all make fun of.”

Aveline’s frown deepened. “The belt with the Andraste buckle his father had made for him before he was murdered?” She pointed out.

“I know.” Said Isabela, in an entirely unrepentant voice. “I’m just broken up about it.” 

The three women left the bridge and Fenris remained where he was, holding Hawke. Boy, who had left with Carver, wandered back to them and lay down beside him.

After about a quarter of an hour Hawke spoke. She had stopped crying but her voice was hoarse. “Danarius didn’t give you the markings just to help you fight did he?”

Fenris didn’t speak for a moment. “No.”

“He used you to fuel his magic.” She didn’t make it a question.

“Yes.” He said finally. 

“Does it always hurt like that?” She asked softly.

“Yes.” There was no hesitation this time. 

It had felt as if the magic was being torn from inside her, as if every part of her was being flayed open, every part of her at once, inside and out: there hadn’t been a piece of her that wasn’t screaming with agony. Even now she felt raw from it, and she could only be grateful that Fenris was touching her as little as possible. “I’m so sorry, Fenris.” 

“I will not be used like that again.” He swore.

“No. We’ll make certain of it.” She promised. 

“That was the bravest thing I’ve seen you do.” Fenris told her. “And the strongest, to keep letting him take from you."

“He wasn’t taking. I was giving. I had to. I couldn’t lose Sebastian.” She was suddenly exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep. “He’ll be all right?” She asked. 

“He is well.” Fenris assured her.

She let her eyes close. 

Fenris waited a few minutes to make certain she was asleep and then got to his feet, still holding her. He carried her to the chamber, and laid her down on the blanket where Sebastian lay. He sat near both of his friends in case either of them needed him. 

 

Varric waited until the others were preoccupied, with eating or sleeping before getting to his feet and grabbing a canteen and some bread and cheese and going out to where Anders still sat. 

Anders looked up as he walked over and took the food without a word. He didn’t invite Varric to join him and Varric didn’t bother to wait for an invitation. When Anders didn’t touch the food or water, Varric pulled out a flask a whiskey, took a drink and then passed it to the mage.

Anders stared at it for a moment before taking it and swallowing a mouthful and giving a shudder. “I hate whiskey.” He muttered.

“Beggars and choosers, Blondie.” Varric told him. He looked out at the chasm. “You looked a little shaky back there for a while.” He said casually.

Anders gave a humorless laugh. “I nearly killed my best friend. I nearly drained her.”

“I don’t know much about magic, but it seems to me that she forced the issue, and that if she hadn’t Choir Boy might not have made it. Or do I have that wrong?”

Anders tilted his head back. “I should have had more control. Hawke didn’t know what she was doing. I should have realized it and stopped. I caused her pain, Varric. A lot of pain if Fenris’ reaction is any indication.” 

“You saved her husband’s life.” Varric pointed out. “It’d make a hell of a story, if I could tell it.”

Anders took the flask and took another drink, thinking of that memory that healing Sebastian had brought back. He looked at Varric. “You want another story?”

Varric kept his face neutral. “You know me, I’m always up for a good story.” 

Anders drank again. “Did I ever tell you how my magic showed? The story of how I ended up in the Circle?”

“I remember something about burning down a barn and your father summoning the templars. Not true?” He asked.

“True. But not all of the truth.” Anders informed him. “If you want all of the truth you have to go back a little farther than the barn incident.” 

When he didn’t speak Varric prompted. “How much farther?” 

“A few years.” He hadn’t bothered to pass the flask back to Varric and he lifted it once more, not even shuddering this time. “My father was a complete bastard. A grim, unsmiling, heartless and cruel bastard.” 

“So true to the Anderfels stereotype, then.” Said Varric.

Anders looked puzzled for a moment and then gave a short humorless laugh. “I suppose so. Ironic.” Before Varric had a chance to question that non sequitur he’d continued. “He used to hit my mother. Used to beat the crap out her actually. And he was as likely to do it drunk as sober, if she’d talked back and dared to criticize him, or simply overcooked his eggs. You never knew what would set him off. And it was always worse in winter after the harvest had come in when he had the time to brood and to drink.” 

When Anders didn’t say anything for a few minutes Varric spoke, his voice casual. “A lot of the men I hear about who hit their wives tend to hit their kids as well.”

“Also true.” Said Anders. “But it didn’t happen that often in our house, probably because my mother would divert his attention.” 

“Divert it?”

“Oh, she had a lot of tricks. Sometimes she’d lash out at him, insult him so he’d get angry at her instead. Sometimes she’d kiss him and touch him and then drag him off to their bedroom and distract him with sex. I hated that she did that. Eventually it stopped working as well. As I got older I think he saw me as a threat somehow, to his manhood, or for stealing my mother’s attention, and she came up with a new tactic. We would run away and hide until he’d sobered up.” He looked over at Varric. “You’ll never guess where we used to go.” 

“I’m all ears.”

“The Chantry. Once upon a time the Chantry was a place of refuge for me. My mother would bundle me up and we’d sneak out of the house and walk through the fields and the woods for what felt like hours. It would be cold and windy and there’d usually be snow on the ground. I don’t think I’ve ever been that cold. We’d walk through the dark, because she was afraid if we brought a lantern he’d find us. And eventually we’d see the lights in the Chantry in the distance. Maker it was such a relief, because I knew that we’d be safe. We’d knock on the door and it would open and the heat would hit us like a wave. We’d step inside and there were candles everywhere, more candles then I had ever seen. Everything was clean and light and warm. It smelled of beeswax and incense and all of it, the warmth and the light and the smells combined together to just mean safe. The Reverend Mother would let us stay for a few days and if my father showed up she would give him a lecture that left his ears burning. Eventually we’d go home, but it would be okay for a while. And then it would start up again and the cycle would repeat. It went on like that for a few years, until I was eleven or twelve.” He was staring off in the distance and didn’t talk for a few minutes.

Varric knew better than to interrupt or ask questions at this point. He waited until Anders began speaking again.

“And then one night we walked through the dark and the cold and arrived at the Chantry. There was a new Reverend Mother. I don’t know what happened to the old one. This Reverend Mother was all about the sanctity of marriage and wives obeying their husbands. When my father turned up she handed us back to him. Told us we couldn’t stay. That it was my mother’s duty to go with her husband. She let that bastard drag my mother and me out and shut the door behind us.” He said bitterly. “He didn’t speak the whole way back. Didn’t say a thing. That was more terrifying than his shouting. We got back to the farm. He ordered me to take care of the cart and donkey and went into the house with my mother. I did it as fast as I could, but she was already unconscious by the time I got back, lying in the middle of the floor barely breathing. He was out back washing the blood off his hands at the pump. I remember dropping to the floor and pulling her into my lap and not even being able to figure out which injury was the worst and then it was suddenly just there – my magic. I could tell her jaw was broken and her nose and that he’d cracked a few ribs and I just knew I could fix it. And I did. Her eyes opened and she saw what I was doing. I thought she’d be glad but she looked horrified and scared. Not of me – for me. And then my father came in and saw her awake, with her injuries healed, and realized what I done. What I was. That’s when he dragged me off to the barn and locked me in while he went and got the Templars. That’s when I discovered I could destroy things as well as heal them. The barn was on fire when he came back with them. And that’s when I was smited for the first time, and given magebane as well. It was a day of firsts really.” He was quiet, for longer this time. “My mother sent some of my things before they dragged me from the town and off to the Tower, but I never saw her again. I can’t imagine she survived for long after I left. Not when the Chantry no longer gave her shelter.” He looked over at Varric. “And that’s the story of when my magic showed. Now that I think of it, it’s not really much of a crowd pleaser, though it does have a certain pathos, I suppose.” He lifted the flask and discovered it was empty. “I don’t suppose you have any more of this swill do you?”

Varric cleared his throat before he spoke. “I do actually, unless Isabela’s found it while we’ve been out here. Come on. Let’s go back to the others.” 

The others were asleep or nearly so. Fenris seemed to have taken the watch and had seated himself beside Hawke and Sebastian. He glowered at Anders but didn’t stop him when he knelt beside the pair and sent out a brief pulse of magic. They both seemed fine. She was curled up around the prince her hand resting on his chest over his heart as if even in sleep she wanted to be certain he was alive and well. She still looked pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. Someone had cleaned the blood off her hands, but there were still traces of it underneath her fingernails. “She’ll be all right once she rests?” He hated to ask the elf the question, but he was the only one who had seen anything close to what Hawke had done.

Fenris looked at her and his face actually softened. “Yes.” 

At that moment Sebastian stirred. His eyes opened and went immediately to the small figure curled up beside him. “She’s unhurt?” He asked anxiously. 

Anders supposed the man deserved some credit for having that be the first question he asked. “Yes, despite her best efforts. You’re fine as well, thanks to her.” At Sebastian’s puzzled look he added. “I’m sure Fenris would be thrilled to tell you all about it.” He turned and left them, blocking out Fenris’ telling the story and Sebastian’s exclamations of surprise, and headed back to Varric and the promise of more whiskey. 

With any luck he could forget what he’d remembered again, even if it was only for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to missmeggo and championspectre for being my sounding boards on this chapter.
> 
> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	21. A Not Terribly Substantiated Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anabel reassures Anders after what happened and they continue into the tower, discovering some of Malcolm Hawke's, and the Grey Warden's secrets.

Carver adjusted one of the leather straps that held the chestpiece in place. “How’s that?” 

Sebastian rotated his shoulders and moved from side to side. “Good. Yes. It will do nicely.” After so many years in white and gold armor his father had given him it felt strange to be wearing something else, and after all that had happened since they’d come to the Vimmark Wasteland it felt especially strange to be wearing this armor: the silver and blue of the Grey Wardens.

While he had been resting, Isabela and Carver had gone off in search of new armor for him. They’d returned with a chestpiece, far lighter and far less bulky than the one Carver wore, a pair of tassets, and a set of greaves. The two of them had also been exchanging undisguisedly lustful glances that Fenris seemed not to notice or not to be concerned about; Sebastian wasn’t certain which. 

Carver had supplied the tunic that he was now buckling securely over the top of the chestpiece, as well as a new pair of dark trousers. The fit wasn’t perfect; Carver was far more muscled than Sebastian, simply larger all around, so the trousers needed a belt to hold them securely at his waist, and the tunic was a bit loose across the chest, but it wasn’t anything that rendered the garments unwearable, and the length was perfect. He and Carver were almost exactly the same height, a somewhat novel experience for them both.

Sebastian looked up to find Aveline watching them with a critical eye. “Well, Guard Captain? Does it meet with your approval?” He asked with a smile.

“Considering we're working with what we stumbled across going through this place? It’s nothing short of miraculous.” She answered. 

“It should protect him from the darkspawn better than that poncey gold and white stuff.” Said Carver gruffly. He leaned forward to make some small adjustment on one of the buckles.

Sebastian couldn’t help a small shudder, remembering that massive shield slamming into him. “Indeed. What was that thing anyway? It was like an entire Tevinter shield wall in one creature.”

Carver straightened up. “The Wardens call it an alpha hurlock. Bigger and nastier than the others. The trick is to split up, lure it out and get it from behind.” He hesitated for a moment and added. “Thank you. For pushing her out of the way like that, I mean. For a moment I thought I was going to lose another sister to the darkspawn. I'd thought you were some hoity-toity nobleman who wasn’t much good for anything, who might have married her just to make your own life easier. I misjudged you You showed you were willing to give your life for her today. So thank you…Brother.” He held out his hand to the Prince.

Sebastian didn’t hesitate before taking it. They both smiled and both glanced over to where Anabel lay. To their surprise found her awake and trying to get to her feet. Even as they watched she faltered, and had to stop and steady herself on her hands and knees.

Sebastian let go of Carver’s hand, and began crossing the room, calling out as he walked towards her. “Don’t you move from that spot, Anabel Hawke Vael. You aren’t to even think of getting up until Anders has had a look at you.” 

To Carver’s astonishment, Anabel froze in place. He looked back at Aveline in surprise.

“She listens to him.” Aveline told him. “He’s taught her a bit of caution, though Maker knows not nearly enough.” 

Carver gave a short laugh. “It must be love.” 

“Yes, in spite of that ridiculous vow I think it is.” She gave Carver an approving look. “The Wardens have been good for you Carver. You’ve grown up.” Finally, she thought to herself, but she didn’t say it out loud. “And from what I hear you’re making a name for yourself with them.”

Carver rolled his eyes. “Andraste's Ass, are you still spying on me after all this time?” In spite of the complaining tone he was smiling.

“Being Captain of the Guard gives me certain connections. I hear things.” She didn’t deny the charge.

“As does being a Warden.” Carver said with a grin. “You’ve gotten a new name yourself, Aveline Hendyr.” 

Aveline could feel her cheeks growing hot. “True enough.” She said brusquely.

“He’s a good man?” Carver asked.

Aveline thought of Donnic, kind, patient, strong and quietly supportive both in the barracks and when they were alone. “Yes.” She said with no hesitation. “A very good man.” She added in a softer voice.

“Good.” Carver told her. “If that changes, you ever need him run out of town or anything, just let me know.” 

Aveline laughed. “I’ll do that Carver.” 

 

Anabel had woken up abruptly, knowing exactly where she was, remembering exactly what had happened, and still, her very first thought, barely coherent enough to be called that, was of Sebastian. She needed to see him, to know for certain that he was alive and well. 

She pushed herself upright, and every part of her protested but she ignored the pain and looked around the chamber for him. The others were at the far end. Aveline and Carver were talking with a second Grey Warden whose back was to her and she frowned. When had another Grey Warden joined them? Carver held out his hand and the Grey Warden reached out and shook it and that graceful movement alone was all she needed to recognize Sebastian. A wave of relief went through her.

Desperate to be nearer to him, to be able to actually touch him, she tried to push herself to her feet. Her body screamed its objections and a wave of dizziness forced her to drop her hands to the ground in front of her to keep from falling. She was about to make a second attempt when she heard Sebastian shout from across the room. “Don’t you move from that spot, Anabel Hawke Vael. You aren’t to even think of getting up until Anders has had a look at you.” 

He was striding towards her and as he got nearer, looking so fit and so well, she found herself having to blink back tears. It was such a ridiculously emotional reaction and her relief was so great that she started laughing out of sheer happiness at the same time. 

He dropped to his knees beside her and she reached out a shaking hand to touch his cheek and he caught it in his, turning his head and pressing a kiss to the palm.

She looked up at those bright blue eyes, flashing briefly back to when the light had seemed to leave them. “We’re all right? We’re both all right?” She asked, needing the reassurance, needing to hear it said out loud.

He smiled at her and the world seemed to go back to how it was supposed to be. “Yes.” He assured her. “We’re all right. Both of us, thanks be to Andraste.” He pulled her close, enfolding her in his arms. “I want to shake you until your teeth rattle, you do know that? How could you risk yourself like that?” He murmured, rubbing his cheek against her soft curls.

She just smiled and pressed herself closer. “You’re a fine one to talk, Sebastian Vael. Don’t do that again, do you hear me? Don’t you ever save me if it means you aren’t going to survive as well.”

“And if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black! From what I’ve heard you nearly killed yourself doing whatever it was you did.” He took her face between his hands tilting it up so he could look at her. Sweet Andraste, he had come so close to losing her, through her death or his. “You are the most amazing, wonderful and quite mad creature and I love you more than I thought was possible.” He brushed his lips over each eyelid and her forehead. “Thank you. Thank you for my life.”

Her eyes were brimming with tears again. “It was purely selfish really. I couldn’t bear the thought of a world without you.” Her voice broke on the last word.

He kissed her then, kissed her to remind himself that she was alive and well, and that he was as well. Kissed her just because he loved her, more than anything in this world, and he suspected the next world as well, kissed her because even though they were still trapped and no doubt had many more dangers to face before they could return home, they had both survived this night.

He finally broke the kiss and looked at her carefully: though she wasn’t as pale as she had been when he’d first awoken, she still seemed fragile somehow. “How are you, and answer honestly please.”

“I hurt, but it’s the strangest sort of hurting, like a thin layer has been scraped off of me, but off of everywhere inside and out. I feel raw, for lack of a better word.” She looked up at him. “Have we figured out exactly what I did do, by the way?”

“I believe Anders has some theories.” Sebastian said, and it was only then that she realized Anders wasn’t in the chamber. Everyone else was. Carver and Aveline and Isabela had joined Varric and Merrill and Fenris by a small fire that they’d made in one corner, but Anders was nowhere to be seen.

She frowned, not liking the implications of that, and looked back at Sebastian. “Where is he?” 

“He’s just outside. He’s wanted to be by himself.” Sebastian had tried to speak with the man to try and find out the details of just what had happened but Anders had refused to discuss it. When he’d persisted Anders had lost his temper and Sebastian had actually seen those faint blue cracks begin to appear in his skin. HIs voice had taken on that familiar echo, as he’d told Sebastian to leave him be. 

Anabel’s frown deepened, and without another word she tried again to push herself to her feet and again was forced to stop. She cursed under her breath. “Will you bring him to me?” She asked.

Unable to think of an adequate reason to refuse, Sebastian did as she asked. 

Anders was where he’d left him hours before, seemed hardly to have moved, in fact. 

He looked up and saw Sebastian, noticed the Warden armor the man wore, and scowled. “I told you I wanted to be left alone.” He reminded him.

“She’s awake.” Sebastian said evenly, carefully masking his dislike of the man. “She’d like to see you.” 

Anders scrambled to his feet pushed past Sebastian and then stopped abruptly. “She’s all right?” He said so low that Sebastian barely heard him.

“She had to be dissuaded from coming to you herself, and she’s more concerned about you than herself.” Sebastian said turning towards the man. “Sure signs that if she’s not fine now she’s well on her way to it.”

Anders looked up at him and both men remembered that brief truce they’d had when Anabel was healing from the injuries she’d received at the hands of the Arishok.

It seemed a very long time ago.

Anders turned and walked back into the chamber. Sebastian followed leaving space enough between them that they didn’t have to speak.

Miraculously Anabel had remained seated but the others had joined her. As Anders was walking towards them she said something and they left her, reluctantly in Fenris’ case. Anders stopped in front of her.

Anabel looked up at him. He looked awful. Almost as bad as she had felt when she'd woken. She waited for almost a full minute after the others had left for him to speak.

He didn’t. He couldn’t even seem to look at her.

She stretched her hands in front of her, careful closing them into fists and then opening them. Moving seemed to be hurting a little less. That had to be good. She glanced at him again. Still staring at the floor of the chamber. “So…” She said conversationally. “Guess what I figured out I could do?”

His eyes shot up to her face. “You think what happened was a joke?” He demanded loudly enough that Anabel saw Fenris’ tattoos flare across the room and saw Sebastian put a restraining hand on his arm. 

“I think what happened let you save Sebastian’s life. I think what happened was something I did, not you.” She said simply. “I think what happened was something I would do again to save him.” 

“I nearly drained you.” He reminded her. “I nearly killed you!” 

She shrugged, trying not to think of how much it had hurt when she’d stopped having to force her power into him and he had begun just taking it. “So we’ve got a few kinks to work out.”

“You’re mad, do you know that?” He shouted at her. “You’re completely insane if you think I’ll ever let you do that again.” 

Her chin lifted defiantly. “Could you have saved Sebastian if I hadn’t done it?”

The fight seemed to go out of him. “No.” He dropped to the ground beside her. “No. His heart was failing – had failed when you did….” He looked at her, finally. “How did you even do that? How did you even know you could do that?”

She gave a short humorless laugh. “I didn’t. But I was desperate enough to try anything. I was thinking how useless I was and then I started to think of opposite magics, how the different schools of magic seem to include the full spectrum of a power. And I thought if I was able to block magic, why wouldn’t I be able to enhance magic?”

He could only stare at her. You met her and thought yes she was charming and lovely and smart enough, but it was only at moments like these that your realized just how brilliant her mind was. He had never even considered the possibility of such a thing. “And then you just did it?”

The look she gave him seemed almost embarrassed. “Yes?”

Magic had always come easily to him, but not like that. He didn’t know anyone who had the skill to do that. Discover an unknown magic and simply do it, and do it so successfully. “Maker’s tits you would have been fucking frightening as a mage.” He muttered, staring at her. 

She grinned at him, flashing her dimple. “Oh, you with your sweet talking ways.” She glanced across the room. The others were doing a fairly poor job of pretending not to watch them, all except Fenris who was glaring at Anders. _If looks could kill_ she thought. “You’ve realized about Fenris?” She asked turning back to Anders.

Anders didn’t bother looking at the elf. He could practically feel his eyes boring into the back of his neck. “That that bastard Danarius used his markings to fuel his magic? Yes, though I’d suspected it for a while.” 

“I’d wondered about it. I never realized how painful it was for him though.” Just the memory of it seemed to rake across her already raw nerve endings and she shuddered.

Anders saw it of course. “Are you still in pain?”

“It’s not pain. Not exactly. I feel raw, abraded almost, like someone took sandpaper to me or as if I’d gotten a bad sunburn, but inside and out. Does that make any sense?” 

“Strangely it does, though I’m not sure why it would.” Where was a mage’s power stored, he wondered? When you pulled it out of someone forcefully as he’d done yesterday where would you feel it? According to Hawke, everywhere apparently.

“Sebastian’s all right, truly all right?” She asked, and he could hear the fear in her voice.

Anders couldn’t help glancing over at the man, who looked even more ridiculously handsome in the blue Warden armor. “Yes. He doesn’t even have a scar, from either injury.” He hadn’t quite believed that when he’d seen it.

“And you?” She asked more tentatively. “When you healed me after the fight with the Arishok it left you in pretty bad shape."

He laughed, almost bitterly. “I feel better than I have in years.” It was true. He never thought he’d have any understanding of why the magisters in Tevinter did the things they did but pulling mana from Hawke had replenished him in ways lyrium never had, never could. As if you’d seen the world by candlelight all your life and suddenly the room was filled with sunlight and you couldn’t understand why you’d never bothered to open the shutters and let it in. “You’re heady stuff, Hawke. Heady stuff indeed.” 

A shadow passed over her face just briefly, and he saw a hint of comprehension in her eyes.

 _Yes,_ he thought. _Now you begin to understand._ Maybe that understanding would make her more cautious about offering herself as fuel. 

“Would you like to hear my wild and not terribly substantiated theory about all of it?” She asked. 

She sounded almost chipper. There was some color back in her cheeks and he started to let himself think that maybe she truly was all right in spite of what he’d done to her. “Yes, but I want to check you over first.” He held up his hands. “I’m just going to send out a little pulse, all right?”

“Sure.” She said easily. Her breath hissed in sharply when he did though, and he immediately stopped. When she’d caught her breath again she gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

“It hurt?”

She nodded. “A bit like have lemon juice squirted into a cut, only everywhere…”

“… inside and out.” He finished for her. He sat there for a moment try to figure out why that might be. He had drained her, pulled her magic out of her, pulled her mana out, depleted it. He didn’t think healing or a healing potion would do anything for that, but perhaps…. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lyrium potion. “I want to try something.” He uncorked it and handed it to her. “Drink that. See if it helps with that raw feeling.”

She stared at it for a moment and then did as he asked. That same bitterness and the same breathtaking rush of clarity, except this time it faded almost immediately seeming to sink into her like a balm. She smiled at him. “Yes. It helped."

He held up his hands. “May I try again?” She nodded and he sent out another pulse. She felt different than she usually did, not that comforting glow but something hotter, livelier, brighter, sharper almost. But even as he thought that it seemed to fade back to that more familiar warmth. Her body was soaking up the lyrium using it to replenish what he’d taken from her. That coolness of it was almost gone, but the warmth of her continued to grow. “It’s better.” He said with relief.

She took a deep breath, only just realizing that she hadn’t been doing breathing deeply before now. “It’s better. What did you do?” She asked curiously.

“Nothing. The lyrium seems to have kickstarted your body into replenishing your own mana.” He wasn’t quite certain why that would be or how that would work. “Tell me your theory about all this.” He asked, genuinely curious now. 

“It’s rough. I only thought of it while Sebastian went to get you.” She cautioned.

“Okay.”

“You know that the templars were formed before the Chantry was? Before Andraste was born even.” 

“I remember you saying something about that, yes.”

“And you remember that theory you had about my having a little bit of magic that I’d inherited from Da?” 

“The one that was proved to be false when we found out you were actually a mage.” He reminded her.

“Had been a mage. And I still think it’s a valid theory.” She insisted. “And you remember my theory about the templars recruiting non-mage children of mages from the orphanages because they had that same trace of magic and they’d have an easier time learning the templar’s tricks?”

“Yes.” He and Justice had both been outraged at the idea.

“What if I learned things backwards? If my whole theory was backwards? What if the ones who became the first templars weren’t people who discovered they could block magic at all? What if they were like Fenris, people, slaves, who were kept and used just to fuel magic? What if they developed what we now think of as Templar skills as a way of fighting back?”

He could only stare at her. The reasoning was sound. But Maker, the hypocrisy of them if it were true.

And how could you even test if it were true? If the templars powers had been around before the chantry then the insistence that they were only granted through prayer had to be false. And where did the lyrium fit into it? Why addict the templars to lyrium if it wasn’t actually required for them to do what they did? Why addict the templars to a substance that drove them mad and rendered them useless eventually? 

_Control._

It always came down to control with the Chantry. Control the people who could control the mages. Control the people who might have magic themselves, even if it was just a trace.

_Control._

“The Chantry would know.” She said looking at him, knowing from his expression that he must have reached the same conclusion that she had. “If it’s true, the chantry must know. Even if it’s only the very highest of them. Some of them must know.”

“Yes.” She was right. He wondered if any of the Templars knew. If they didn’t and they found out would they even remain part of the Chantry?

That fit in with what Nell had told him though. That it was possible to learn the templars' skills without prayers and without lyrium. King Alistair himself used those skills and had taught them to others. He suddenly wondered about this serving maid who had been the King’s mother. Could she have been a mage?

“Do you think they don’t actually know about the red lyrium, or that they’re deliberately suppressing the knowledge of it?” She asked suddenly.

“Why would you think it’s either of those things?” He hadn’t even been thinking about the red lyrium. 

“It enhances magic. If my theory is right it could turn the templars into mages or something like it: look what simply being around the stuff did to me. If it were made into potions and consumed the way regular lyrium is consumed who knows what might happen? If they develop magical powers, if they become _de facto_ mages then the Chantry would lose its military force. The whole structure would change at the very least, and collapse at the most.”

He tried to imagine what the Chantry would be without the Templars. What the Templars would be as their own force, or what they would be if they discovered and used the red lyrium deliberately. Her suggestion that it would merely change the structure seemed more wishful than realistic.

If the Templars discovered they'd been used like that the whole system would come crashing down. The Chantry would be without it's strong arm, and the Templars...

The Templars would be free to do whatever they wanted.

He didn't know which version of the Templars was more frightening or more dangerous to the mages of Thedas.

She’d been watching him carefully. “It’s just a theory, remember. I could be wildly wrong. It has happened.”

He gave her a careful look. “Do you think you are?”

“No.” She admitted. “But it’s not something I really want to spread around until we’ve got something more than theory to back it up.” She glanced over at Sebastian wondering what he would say if she presented this theory to him.

“Are you going to tell him about it?” Anders asked.

She hesitated. “No. Not just yet. I want to work on it a bit. Pay a few more visits to the Chantry library.” She seemed lost in her thoughts for a few minutes. “I wonder what it would take to get into the library at the Gallows?” She mused.

“No.” Anders said immediately. “It’s far too dangerous.”

“But…” She started to say.

“No.” He repeated. “See what you can find out at the Chantry library first.” 

She was looking out of the chamber towards the staircase leading down to the next level. “I like how we’re both assuming we’re even going to get out of here.” Maker knew what else they’d run into before they even found Corypheus. She felt Anders hand on her arm and looked up at him.

“We’ll find a way out, Hawke.” He told her.

She gave him a small smile. “So you’re the optimist now? I thought that was my job.”

He couldn’t help smiling back. “You fueled my healing magic. It seems only fair I do my best to fuel your optimism.” 

She leaned forward suddenly and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for saving him. I’m sorry if I scared you with what I did. Forgive me?” 

_Him forgive her._ “You are the most ridiculous person.” He muttered shaking his head.

She grinned. “Oh you love me, you know you do.” She pushed herself to her feet, missing the look of undisguised yearning that flashed briefly across his face. It had vanished when she looked back at him. “Come on. No point in sitting around here for the rest of the day.” 

 

In no time at all they had gathered their things together, extinguished the fire and headed down to the next level. There was another of the Warden shields hanging from the wall, with another glowing orb. Anabel ran to it and touched it and it vanished in the same way. Her eye caught a flicker of light up ahead. “There.” She said. 

Another magically sealed cell, this time locking in an abomination, and once again Da’s voice repeating the same warning. “Be bound here…”

Carver came up beside her as Da’s voice echoed through the room. When it had stopped she looked up at him. 

“It’s so strange to hear him again.” She said softly.

“Yeah.” Carver agreed. “But not in a bad way. It makes me miss him.”

“Yes.” She agreed. “Let’s keep going. There must be another of those orb things up ahead.”

There was, but only after fighting off two rooms of corpses summoned by a darkspawn emissary, and the emissary itself. 

Hawke bent over, hands on her knees trying to catch her breath. She looked up to find Merrill beside her, smiling at her. 

“This is good right? We’re making progress.” Merrill said encouragingly.

Hawke couldn’t help laughing. “We are. I’m going to bring you along on all my Deep Roads Expeditions from now on Merrill. I like your attitude.” 

Fenris snorted from somewhere behind her, and that made her laugh even more. 

The shield with the orb was in this room. Carver touched it this time and they trekked back to the cell, setting themselves up in preparation for an attack from behind this time, so they were ready for it, if not for the profane who were actually doing the attacking.

“These things again?” Carver demanded as he took down the last of them. It fell with a crash.

Anabel nudged the pile of rocks with her feet. “I would have thought we were too close to the surface for them. Something to keep in mind as we go farther down.”

“So you’re saying expect anything then?” Varric asked somewhat sardonically. 

She looked momentarily nonplussed. “Apparently I am. And we thought our adventuring days were behind us.” 

“I think ‘hoped’ is the word you were looking for Hawke.” Varric muttered but she’d turned towards the now empty cell. The same dark bluish haze, vaguely man-shaped as the last, and Da’s voice again, not reciting a spell, but almost conversational.

_I may have left the circle but I still took a vow. My magic will serve that which is best in me not which is most base._

The smoke faded again, and Anabel turned to Carver. “Father used to say that to Bethany, do you remember?” 

He had a half smile on his face. “Yeah.” 

 

They continued through the level, making all sorts of discoveries including an altar to the god Dumat, who had become the first Archdemon heralding the First Blight. It was disused, broken and covered in dust and dirt, but did that mean…

Before she could voice her thoughts Sebastian voiced them for her. “An altar to Dumat? So someone was here before the First Blight? After that there would have been no Dumat to worship. Just ho long has this tower been here?” 

Anabel wandered over to a desk in the same room. A few sheets of vellum were scattered across them. She picked up a sheet. 

_Warden-Commander Farele to the First Warden in Weisshaupt, 1004 TE_

She looked over at Sebastian. “Longer than the Chantry's been around apparently.” She said and began to read aloud:

_We’ve made an unusual discovery._

_The creature can speak. It has a name, Corypheus. We have encountered darkspawn before who use words, but none individual enough to have chosen a name. This Corypheus appears unique among darkspawn, and has gathered many of its brethren to follow it._

_It would be wasteful to kill such a creature. If it can be captured, tamed somehow, its unnatural influence over the darkspawn could perhaps be turned to our favor. It is clear the darkspawn will never bow to human commands, but this Corypheus seems at times more human than beast. I have conversed with it, and though its thoughts are disordered and inhuman, it speaks of the Old Gods by their Tevinter names. I have wondered if perhaps he is no darkspawn at all, but a ghoul, so corrupted by the taint as to have become a new creature entirely._

_I recommend we find a way to capture Corypheus, hold it somewhere safe from both men and darkspawn, and study its unique nature. This will require magic, however, for Corypheus' own abilities are powerful. It uses spells both human and tainted, and has a strength that would shame any magister. We must muster our best mages to face it and to hold it._

“And so it began.” She said softly. “How many times must they have reinforced these seals. And how did they even capture him to begin with. Wardens and their secrets.” She looked at her brother and Anders. “Neither of you ever heard anything about this?”

“I didn’t even know this place was out here, remember?” Carver insisted.

“I’ve been out of the loop for a while.” Said Anders. “And the Fereldan Wardens never had much contact with Weisshaupt anyway.”

“Do you think Larius might know more?”

Anders actually laughed. “His mind is scrambled eggs, Hawke. He won’t be able to help us.”

“Whatever madness drives that poor wretch he’s led us truly thus far.” Sebastian pointed out.

“He has, hasn’t he?” She said. “Poor sod.” She murmured.

They left that chamber, battling more darkspawn, and found another magically sealed cell. One of the orbs was behind them, and Carver touched it, deactivating it. 

The other was across the room, on a shield that was hung higher up than the others. As she strained to reach it she felt a pair of familiar strong hands on her waist picking her up, lifting her so she could touch it. Once she’d deactivated it, Sebastian lowered her to the ground and she turned in his arms, going up on her toes to kiss his cheek. Her hand automatically went to where the neckpiece of his white armor had been. She couldn’t help stroking the spot. “I’m going to have to get used to that not being there.” She said with a soft smile. “Though it should make it much easier to kiss you.” She said thinking back to that time he’d accidentally bruised her with the sharp neckpiece. She realized her mistake as soon as the words left her mouth. _Stupid._ She thought. There weren’t going to be kisses like that anymore. It was just cruel to bring them up, cruel to both of them. She looked up at him, about to apologize and he swooped down and kissed her mouth.

Swooped. 

There wasn’t any other way to put it. His hands tightened on her waist, he swooped down, and then his mouth was on hers, warm and firm, not rough, but not gentle by any description, parting her lips, his tongue gently exploring, tasting, brushing against hers just briefly before he pulled back and stared at her for moment before smiling gently. 

He’d seen every emotion cross her face, the realization of what she’d said, the guilt, the regret but it had been that hint of sadness that he’d wanted to make disappear. That he had made disappear though it had been replaced now by confusion. Confusion, desire, and just a hint of a pleased smile. “Yes.” He agreed softly. “Much easier.”

She actually blushed. Down in the Deep Roads, stalking Maker knew what sort of creature, fighting demons, uncovering long hidden Hawke family secrets and he’d made his wife blush just by kissing her. He couldn’t help leaning forward and kissing her one more time before turning to look at the desire demon trapped behind the shimmering barrier. “Are you ready?” He asked looking back at her. 

She could only nod as she looked up at him, her eyes round. She didn’t move and he actually had to turn her and push her gently towards the cell.

Carver wasn’t bothering to hide his smile as she walked up to him. 

“Shut up.” She told before he could speak, but she was smiling as well now. 

This time when Da’s voice began speaking she reached for Carver’s hand. When the last echo had faded away she turned to look at him. “I’m almost wishing we’d keep finding them. Once we find the last we won’t hear it again.” Foolishly she felt tears well up at the thought. 

To her surprise Carver reached over and pulled her into a bear hug. “Daft cow.” He told her.

“Jackass.” She muttered into his chest.

He bent and kissed the top of her head before releasing her. He glanced at the desire demon, and then at the others spread out behind them. “Ready?” He asked.

She nodded, and he touched the orb.

The desire demon proved tougher than the others who had been trapped, but again their number worked in their favor, and the demon and the corpses she’d summoned fell quickly.

This time she and Carver were expecting it when Da’s voice echoed through the chamber.

_I’ve bought our freedom. We can go home now, Leandra. We’ll be together. Us and the baby. I hope…it will take after you. I would wish this magic on no one._

The voice stopped and Anabel thought that was the end of it when suddenly it spoke again. 

_May they never learn what I’ve done here._

“The baby.” She repeated. “He must have been talking about me. They were still in Kirkwall. Mother must have been pregnant.” She looked over at Sebastian. “Mother talked about a job that he’d taken, do you remember? One that kept him away for more than a month. She’d worried he wasn’t coming back. He was here.”

Sebastian nodded.

Carver was shaking his head. “He truly didn’t want a child with magic. He never let it show. All that time he spent with Bethany.”

Anabel tilted her head as she looked at him. “Did you mind? I know we both said we didn’t. I did though. A little.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Mostly I just wanted to be able to help. To do something.” 

“You did. You kept her safe all those years. It was my fault that she...”

Carver looked appalled. “You can’t really still think that? After all these years? Maker, you’re an idiot. Fuck’s sake Anabel, it was an ogre. I know men who’ve been wardens for twenty years who couldn’t take down an ogre by themselves.”

She just shrugged.

He shook his head. “Idiot.” He repeated. “We talked about it sometimes – her magic, I mean. Bethany just wanted to be normal. As if you and I made a good case for it.” 

“She always saw the best in us. I miss her.” She slipped her arms around his waist. It had been the last of these sealed cells, she knew that somehow. Her and Da. And Mother."

“Yeah.” Agreed Carver slinging an arm over her shoulders. “I miss all of them. Even you sometimes. Gamlen can go suck an egg.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “He’s not so bad.” She insisted. “I hope they’re all up there somewhere, laughing together. Telling stories about us, the way we tell stories about them. Laughing at us both getting into all these scrapes.”

Carver gave a snort “Scrapes, huh? That a different way of looking at it.” 

She just grinned. “Let’s me sleep better at night. We’re going to get through this. All of us.” She promised.

He nodded his head. “Agreed. We kill this thing and get out of here. All of us. I’m tired of losing things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	22. An Unwelcome Side Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian can't seem to stop touching Anabel. And Anders and Hawke discover an unwelcome side effect of his using her to fuel his magic, one that Fenris is all too familiar with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a special thank you to jumeyle for reading sections of this chapter and letting me bounce ideas off of her.

They continued through the labyrinth of rooms leading back towards the tower and the next seal, fighting scattered darkspawn along the way. Finally the smaller rooms led out to a larger one looking out at the tower itself. They walked over to the broken down railing and peered over: you couldn’t see bottom, at least not from this level.

“Just how deep does this hole go?” Fenris demanded.

“How deep do the Deep Roads go?” Hawke asked, as she clambered onto a pile of masonry to try and get a better view into the chasm.

“That’s downright philosophical for you, Hawke.” Varric commented.

She laughed. “Mmm...” She agreed. She gave him a mischievous grin. “You might even say it was…”

“Don’t say it.” Varric warned.

“Deep.” 

Everyone groaned.

Varric shook his head. “You said it. I can’t believe you actually said it.”

“I don’t get it.” Merrill said looking around. 

“That was awful.” Carver informed his sister. “And trust me, after four years with the Wardens I’ve heard pretty much every Deep Roads joke there is.” 

Anabel was peering over the side of the chasm and didn’t respond. She still couldn’t see the base of the tower because of the swirling mist or fog, or whatever it was that surrounded it. She had a better view of this side of it. The buildings seemed to stop with this floor: she could only see cliff and the occasional cave opening below it. She looked up to see if she could get a glimpse of the sky she knew had to be up there, to get some idea of the time of day and as she did, the block she was standing on shifted. Sebastian’s hands were immediately there, steadying her. She looked back at him with a grateful smile. “I’m going to get used to always having you there when I falter, if you aren’t careful.” She warned him.

His blue eyes were warm, his hands firm on her hips. “You may as well, Ana, as I intend to always be there, whether you falter or not.” He turned her slowly around so she was facing him. 

She fit so perfectly in his hands. Sebastian couldn’t help running his thumbs over her hip bones, feeling that slight hollow there. An image flashed through his mind, holding her like this, his hands on her bare skin, guiding her movements. His hands tightened almost imperceptibly and he heard her draw in her breath, ever so slightly. When he glanced up at her her lips were parted and she was looking at him uncertainly. He couldn’t help smiling, curious if she had any inkling of what he’d just been thinking. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and his smiled deepened. _Oh yes_. She knew, and he suspected she was thinking something quite similar now. He slid his arms around her, holding her just below the perfect curve of her bottom, and lifted her off the blocks, letting her slide slowly down the front of him until her feet touched the ground. He kept his arms around her, keeping her body pressed against his.

What on Thedas was Sebastian thinking? Anabel glanced quickly at the others. As if by some unspoken agreement they had all drifted or were drifting to the far end of the railing, and were studiously avoiding looking at her and Sebastian. _Wonderful._ That meant more intrusive questions from Isabela, more concerned looks from Aveline, and who knew what Carver would come up with. She turned back to Sebastian who had begun softly caressing the small of her back; the top of her behind if she were entirely honest. 

“You’re being very…affectionate lately.” She pointed out, speaking softly enough that there would be no chance of their being overheard.

“Am I?” Sebastian replied, though he knew the answer full well. “Perhaps I just need the reassurance that we’re both still here and well. Perhaps I need to feel you beneath my hands to be entirely certain of it.” His tone was light but the words were true. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her, to stop needing to touch her, not that he was trying so very hard to suppress the urge.

The hand that had been hovering at the beginning curve of her bottom, moved down, leaving no doubts of what he was touching and she couldn’t help a small start when it did. 

She looked up at him so suspiciously that he couldn’t help laughing. “And what’s brought that look to your face, Mistress Vael?” He asked with a teasing smile.

Sweet Andraste, he was far too handsome when he looked at her like that, the way he had before they’d this chaste marriage, before they taken those vows, playful and with a hint heat in those blue eyes. She’d missed that look, missed the feel of his hands, missed the thrill of excitement that the combination of the two sent through her. 

There was no denying Sebastian been more physically affectionate since the night they’d been attacked in Kirkwall, so this latest demonstration wasn’t exactly surprising, but there were gentle touches and light caresses that said 'I’m thankful you’re unharmed', and then there was someone’s hand grabbing your ass. 

Even she could tell the difference between the two. 

She tried to match his casual tone in spite of the fact he’d move his other hand down as well. The action forced her up on her toes, and pulled her flush up against him. “Just wondering if your father had some sort of anti-lust spell put on that shiny white armor of yours. You’ve been acting…” _like a horny teenager_ “...a bit out of character since you stopped wearing it.”

He laughed again, knowing somehow that she had been thinking of an entirely different way of putting it. “No, though I doubt any anti-lust spell could counteract just how beautiful you look right now anyway.” He said, continuing to look at her as if she were a particularly delectable pastry.

Who would have thought she would end up being the strong one when it came to the whole chastity thing? She put her hands against his chest to keep some distance between them, raising a skeptical eyebrow and trying to control her racing heart. “Even now? After two, no three days, in the Deep Roads, slaughtering darkspawn, bloodstained and Maker-knows-what-else-stained, with nary a bathtub in sight?”

“Yes.” He said unreservedly. “Even now you are still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He saw a hint of his own yearning reflected in her eyes, for just a moment, before it vanished, to be replaced by a look of almost ruthless determination. She tried to step back, and he moved his hands from her bottom to her waist, keeping her there. 

She resisted for a brief second and then leaned forward and resting her head lightly against his new chestpiece, feeling the metal cool against her forehead. “I think you were right before.” She said, not looking up at him. “I think you’re having some kind of perfectly natural reaction to a near death experience.”

He reached down and lifted her chin, bending closer so his mouth was barely an inch from her own. “Am I?” He asked softly, and she shivered at the feel of his breath against her lips. 

“Yes.” She whispered back. “You must be.” As if acting independently from the rest of her, her hands reached up and curled around his neck.

“Is that such a bad thing?” He asked and his lips were so close now that they actually brushed against hers when he spoke, and then he was kissing her, for the third time that day. Soft, nibbling, searching kisses this time, as if he were taking small tastes of her, kisses that she couldn’t help but answer.

“We made vows, remember?” She said, between the kisses.

“Vows.” He agreed, leaning forward and catching her upper lip between his own, and running his tongue along it. There hadn’t actually been any vows of chastity of course, and even if there had been he suspected his decision would have been the same.

And with that thought, Sebastian realized that he had in fact made a decision. 

He broke the kiss and straightened slowly, staring down at her, stunned that in the end it had been that just that easy.

He didn’t want to maintain the illusion any more, that carefully crafted, intricate collection of lies he’d woven together over the last few months. He didn’t want to have to pretend any more. He wanted to move past it, wanted to let her know that their chaste marriage wasn’t chaste at all, that he had been stupid and terrified of losing Elthina to the same sort of violence that had claimed his family. That he had been egotistical beyond belief, convinced that only he could keep Elthina safe, and that once he told that lie he had been terrified that he would lose her if she learned the truth and so he had continued to lie. 

That he had been a complete and utter fool but he wanted to change that, wanted a real marriage, wanted to make love to his wife, to be a husband to her in every sense of the word.

He stared down at her. How did he do that? How did he tell her of his deceit, of his lies, without losing her? 

There must be a way. They couldn’t have both come so close to dying and been so miraculously saved if the Maker hadn’t intended for them to stay together. There must be a way. 

He couldn’t lose her now. He wouldn’t lose her now. He frowned, not realizing how grim it made him look.

Anabel saw the it and gave him a wistful, almost resigned smile. “It’s all right.” She assured him. “I was caught up as well. We’ve both remembered now and we move on from here. It won’t happen again.” She ignored the almost physical pain just saying it caused, reached up and stroked his cheek gently and then turned and walked quickly away to join the others, wondering if it was always going to be this hard, or if a decade from now it might be easier to shut off that part of her that craved touched and caressed and kissed so desperately. _Sweet Andraste, let it get easier._

For a moment he stood there, staring after her. He had no idea what to do next, no idea how to proceed.

He shook himself free of the thought. Proceed? They were trapped in an underground prison in the Deep Roads. There would be no proceeding until they’d dealt with Corypheus and escaped this place. Once that was done he would find a way to tell her, a way that she would forgive him, and that they could move on. 

It was all he could do right now, he thought, and he crossed to her side.

“The sooner we proceed the sooner we’ll get to the bottom.” Fenris was saying, looking even more grim than usual. 

“Cheer up Fenris.” Merrill chirped happily. “It’s not so bad.”

Fenris turned to glare at the elf. “We are in a dark hole filled with evil. What could I possibly have to be cheerful about?”

“It’s not going to rain and there’s almost no chance we’ll be attacked by bears.” The response came with no hesitation whatsoever, and Anabel couldn’t help smiling.

“Have you been walking through here the whole time thinking of all the things that couldn’t go wrong?” Anabel asked, her eyes twinkling. She glanced up at Sebastian, giving him a quick smile before turning back to Merrill.

Merrill nodded enthusiastically “Oh, yes. It makes things much more enjoyable.” 

“And we put our lives in your hands.” Muttered Fenris.

“I know! It surprises me too.” Merrill agreed.

They continued through the level. Another alpha hurlock with its massive shield, and a rush of darkspawn from all sides. 

A small side chamber with, another relic of the Old God, Dumat.

And finally the bridge leading to the tower and the next seal. 

Like the bridge on the previous level this was also blocked by an alpha hurlock, but it was accompanied by an ogre this time. It made Hawke wonder if they were all guarded this way. Now that they knew what to expect from the creature, now that they were all of them prepared for the fight they defeated both monsters quickly and made their way into the center of the chamber. 

Anabel eyed the seal warily. “I suppose something’s going to pop up and go boo when we get near this one as well?” 

It was indeed. An almost identical demon guardian appeared, teleported the way the first one had, but there were suddenly four its place, copies, weaker than the original they quickly learned, and more easily killed. 

Finally only the guardian itself was left. Hawke and Fenris attacked it together. She slashed out at it striking with both her weapons and it roared and flung her across the chamber. She slid across the floor slamming into the wall opposite as Fenris charged into the demon and brought it down.

Sebastian and Anders both ran to her, but she was already pushing herself upright. “I’m beginning to really hate this fucking place.” She commented holding her shoulder where it had hit the wall. “It’s fine.” She told Anders as he reached out to heal her. “Just a bruise.” She pushed herself to her feet, dusting herself off before looking up at him. 

He and Sebastian were giving her dubious looks. 

She couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, come on. Have a little faith in me. I do occasionally tell the truth about my injuries you know.” 

Anders gave a small snort and without thinking reached out to unfasten her leather armor to get a better look. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sebastian take a step closer as if to stop him, but pause, though the easy smile he’d worn had vanished. Hawke on the other hand didn’t seem to think anything of it, so Anders continued, slipping the jacket down, and unfastening the top few ties on her shirt, pretending he hadn’t noticed Sebastian’s previous reaction, and pretending he didn’t notice the scowl that came over the man’s face now. If he was going to be idiot enough to refuse a physical relationship with Hawke, maybe he needed to see that there were others that wouldn’t he thought, conveniently ignoring the hypocrisy of the statement, pretending he hadn’t pushed Hawke away for more than two years himself. He had been trying to keep Hawke safe. What Vael was doing was entirely different, cruel almost. He slid the shirt over her shoulder, more slowly than he needed to, deliberately brushing his fingers against that velvety pale skin. He knew why he was doing this and it wasn’t just what Vael was doing to Hawke: it was that memory, the one that healing the man had unlocked, that memory of the Chantry’s refusing him and his mother sanctuary. Playing this game with Sebastian was his way of lashing back, whether at the Chantry or the man himself, he couldn’t have said for certain. 

He’d meant to do it just to taunt Sebastian, and had succeeded, judging by the man’s reaction, but he had forgotten the richness of Hawke’s skin and the feel of it beneath his fingers, soft and warm and almost glowing in the dim light. A wave of pure lust went through him. He pulled the shirt farther down, and then scowled when he saw the bruise, already turning a bluish purple that almost matched the shirt she wore. 

Hawke saw his face and glanced down at it. “It looks worse than it is, I promise.” 

He ignored her and put one hand near her collar bone and the other on the bruise itself and sent just a tendril of his magic into her, feeling her glow, feeling that yes, it was just a bruise, easily healed. He gathered his magic and pushed it into her. It should only have been a small pulse of healing magic but instead of the gentle blue glow he’d intended, it flared almost white and she literally staggered under the impact. Sebastian had to actually catch her and steady her. 

Anders cursed and pulled his hand back and flexing it. “Shit.” He muttered his whole body felt – electrified wasn’t quite right. Invigorated wasn’t strong enough.

It felt like what he had done yesterday. _Shit._ He looked back up at Hawke in alarm, wondering what it had felt like to her.

She was staring at Anders, wide-eyed, and dazed looking. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was breathing fast. When he looked more closely he noticed her pupils were dilated. He took a step closer, and her body gave a sudden involuntary shiver. 

“Give a girl a little warning next time, would you?” She said with an uneasy laugh. She couldn’t seem to meet his eye, and looked down at the ground instead. She moved back, closer to Sebastian who pulled her shirt and jacket back up over her shoulder, giving Anders an unfriendly look.

The bruise was completely gone, Anders noticed.

“Sorry.” He muttered, looking back at his hands. “I seem to be…overcharged, for lack of a better word.” He glanced at Fenris and found he was once again shooting him a look of pure loathing but he appeared unsurprised by what had just happened.

Fenris knew what had just happened. Anders would bet on it. 

Not wanting to let the proverbial cat out of the bag about how Denarius had used Fenris’ markings he said simply, “A word, Fenris?” He walked away to the farthest corner of the room, not entirely certain if Fenris would follow. 

When he turned, Fenris was a few paces away. He waited until the elf had reached his side. “I realize you have no desire to talk about Denarius, but you’re the only one who’s ever dealt with this sort of magic, and I need some answers if I’m going to be of any use to her.” 

Fenris scowled, and Anders saw his hands clench into fists at his sides. As he’d suspected it would, making it about Hawke made him more agreeable to the request. “Ask your questions, mage.”

“That increase in power just now: that’s from what Hawke did yesterday?”

“From when you took power from her, yes.” Fenris answered coldly. 

Anders considered reminding him that Hawke had practically forced the power on him, but realized there was very little point to doing so. “How long will this boost last?” He could only hope it wasn’t permanent. 

“Danarius was careful never to drain me to the extent you drained her, but if I had to guess I would say a day or so.”

Implying that not only was he evil, but incompetent as well. “It was easier to cast spells when we were fighting the darkspawn before, but it wasn’t anything like what just happened when I tried to heal her. That was something different. Is it because of what we did?” 

Fenris’ didn’t answer. His mouth was clamped shut, his lips a thin line. 

Anders gave a sigh of frustration. “Fenris I’m trying not to hurt her the way I did, but I need your help to do that. Believe me I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t need to.”

Fenris’ nostrils flared but he remained silent. Anders was about to give up when he suddenly spoke. 

“Danarius never explained why…how…. He never said exactly what happened, but it is my understanding… I believe that when magic is fueled in that way…” He seemed to falter again. He was angry but there was something else, something that Anders couldn’t quite name. 

Fenris gritted his teeth and forced himself to continue. “You are still connected to her by the mana you took from her. The connection will grow weaker as the energy you took from her is used but for a time any spells you perform on her will…” His voice trailed off again.

“Be amplified?” Anders suggested.

Again that emotion he couldn’t decipher passed over the elf’s face. “Yes.” He spat out.

He was leaving something out, Anders could tell. “What I did just now didn’t hurt her, did it?” Anders asked, looking across the room at her. She seemed to be reassuring Vael that she was all right. She was still flushed, and still looked shaky. She glanced up and saw him looking at her and quickly looked away.

Fenris gave an entirely humorless laugh. “No. It did not _hurt_ her.” He said bitterly. There was something about the emphasis Fenris had put on the word ‘hurt’ that made Anders turn back to him. 

Fenris was staring at the wall in front of him, but as if he felt Anders’ gaze he turned to look at him. His cheeks flushed a dull angry red and his eyes burned with resentment. 

But underneath that, underneath the anger and the bitterness, was that something else again. Anders recognized it now.

Shame. 

And suddenly, in an instant, he realized exactly what ‘it’ had done. 

He remembered Hawke’s reaction; flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, increased breathing and pulse, how dazed and unsteady she had seemed, and more than anything else how embarrassed. She hadn’t been hurt by it. She’d been aroused: physically, sexually aroused. 

And Fenris knew this because Denarius…

Anders couldn’t keep the shock and horror from his face. Or the pity.

Fenris saw it and his markings actually flared white. “Are you done, mage?” He snarled. “Have I satisfied your curiosity on the subject?” He didn’t wait for Anders to reply but stalked away, not to the others, but out of the chamber back towards the bridge they’d crossed. He wasn’t fool enough to leave the chamber. He stopped at the archway, facing away from the chamber. Isabela had been watching surreptitiously and after a curious glance at Anders she strolled casually after him. 

_Fuck._ Anders thought. He’d suspected Danarius had abused Fenris not just by using his markings to fuel his magic, not just physically, torturing him by putting the lyrium into his skin and probably countless other ways as well, but sexually. It had never occurred to him that the three things would be so closely intertwined. 

He glanced back at Hawke. She seemed fine, he thought, looking over at her. Maybe Fenris had been wrong, he hoped desperately. Maybe anything sexual had only been Denarius’ perversions.

Hawke saw him watching her and the pink of her cheeks deepened. She gave him a bright false smile and immediately looked away and moved closer to Sebastian.

 _Shit._ Fenris hadn’t been wrong. Just what had she felt? How much of an effect… had she actually…

He couldn’t even finish the thought. Was it just the fact he used her mana that cause the reaction? It must be but it made no sense. Supposedly there were lust spells and sex magic though Maker knew it was never taught in the Circle, just whispered about, but a spell like that, magic that specific wasn’t spontaneous. It required intent, it wouldn’t simply happen, not just from taking mana would it? No, he thought again. It would require intent, lust, desire…

And he suddenly felt ill. He had been caressing her, longing for her. 

Desiring her.

 _Holy Maker_. Fenris was right. He was no better than the magisters.

**No. You were unaware this would happen. I do not understand your feelings for this woman but what you did was unintentional. You would not willingly use her in that way.**

_How do you know that?_ He thought in a panic.

There was a pause before Justice answered. **It would not be just. I would not let you.**

And for the very first time since they had merged the words were reassuring.

He forced himself to be calm as he tried to think if he had had a sexual reaction to the spell as well. He didn’t think so, but he’d been so overwhelmed by just the rush of power and alarmed by what it might be doing to Hawke that he had broken it off almost immediately. 

And if he had continued the connection?

He pushed the thought from his mind. No. As much as he desired Hawke, as much as Fenris thought him capable of such an act, he would never do that to her, to anyone. Never.

He walked back to the group, returning Hawke’s smile and ignoring the blush and the embarrassment. “Seems our magic is still connected from your shenanigans yesterday.” He said almost carelessly. “It should fade in a few hours, so be a good girl and try not to get into too much trouble until then.”

“Sure,” She said, her voice equally casual. “I can do that.” But she had stepped back from him, reaching out and twining her fingers through Sebastian’s and pressing closer to him. 

_Shit_. She had definitely felt something. He couldn’t embarrass her by asking exactly what, not with the others, not with Vael standing right there. “I’m going to take a look at the seal, see what sort of options we have with this one.” 

“Sure.” She said with that same false nonchalance. 

Anabel watched as Anders walked away, feeling her cheeks growing even hotter. She hadn’t believed it possible. She turned and burrowed into Sebastian feeling embarrassed and guilty somehow. Sebastian had been right there, right beside her and she had...

Why on Thedas did her magic have to be so fucking weird? Did Anders realize what had happened? Did anyone else? She hadn’t actually…not quite but Maker she had been close, and even now she felt, well, tingly, for lack of a better word, and things were still warm and throbbing, things that definitely shouldn’t be warm and throbbing for any reasons, let alone magical ones. 

She shut her eyes and slid her arms around Sebastian. Why couldn’t her magic show like everyone else’s did? Why couldn’t she just freeze something or accidentally throw a fireball like Bethany or Anders had? No, she had to start smiting people and almost having orgasms.

Just the word, or the thought of it, sent a shiver of pleasure through her and her breath caught. _Fuck._ She pressed her thighs together trying to stop it which ended up having the opposite effect of what she’d hoped. _Fuck_. 

“Ana? Are you certain you’re all right?” Sebastian’s hand went up and caressed the back of her neck, and it was all she could do to keep from moaning out loud.

She pulled away. “Yes.” She gave him an apologetic smile at the abruptness. “Just a bit sensitive.” 

He was frowning. “Like this morning when you woke up, you mean?”

“Yes!” She said, almost too eagerly. “Yes. It’s what Anders said. I’m just very sensitive. To the magic. Like before.” She took a step back as she spoke. “I’m going to see what Anders has figured out.” She glanced over to where Fenris and Isabela were standing, wondering what Anders had asked him about that had gotten him so upset. Fenris looked up at her and then looked away almost immediately and she realized he was blushing as well. She looked down at the ground in a panic. He knew, somehow he knew. She’d never be able to look him in the face again. How could he possibly know?

 _Maker’s Breath_. She almost stumbled when she realized…

Fenris knew because he’d experienced it. Because Denarius had done the same to him, but not by accident, and she was certain not with any concern as to whether he was willing or not. 

The embarrassment and the arousal both vanished instantly, replaced by an ice cold fury at what Fenris had suffered at that bastard’s hands for so many years. And here she was fluttering like some sort of insipid besmirched maiden because she’d been embarrassed by a side effect of an unknown magic. Pathetic.

Fucking Denarius. She thought as she joined Anders. She almost hoped he would dare show his face in Kirkwall, just so she could have the pleasure of helping Fenris kill him. 

 

Anders carefully circled the last of the columns. Isabela and Varric were seated at the edge of the seal watching him. Merrill was flitting from column to column examining the symbols. Anders was ignoring her for the most part. He straightened up looking at each in turn. Which column should Hawke touch the Key to? The first drained health, the second stamina, the third aided armor penetration, and the last increased attack speed.

Attack speed. Anders’ hand lingered on the symbol and he frowned. “I wonder…” He said aloud.

“You wonder?” Hawke prompted as she walked up beside him trailed by Carver, Aveline and Sebastian. 

He turned to look at her. She’d stopped blushing and had apparently gotten over her embarrassment. She hadn’t brought it up so he didn’t either. “From what we know your father always seemed uncertain if he’d successfully contained your magic. What if he was right and he hadn’t?”

She seemed nonplussed by the idea. “Surely I’d have noticed if I had magic before our first little Deep Roads expedition.”

“Not necessarily. What if your skill with your weapons isn’t just physical skill? Your speed, the way you always seem to hit precisely where it would do the most damage. What if it’s your magic?”

She couldn’t help feeling a bit offended. “You know I do work on that sort of thing quite a bit. Hours of training and all.” She pointed out. “I’m not sure I like having it all put down to magic.” 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. What if the magic in you wanted to get out, was trying to get out? What if it saw an opportunity, for lack of a better word, in your skill with weapons and worked its way out through that?” 

“And you think Da might have sensed that when I was training?” She looked at Sebastian who had come up beside her. “Do you think that’s possible?” She asked him.

“You are almost impossibly fast when you fight. I thought it from the first.” Sebastian admitted.

She had a frown on her face that was suspiciously close to being a pout. “Well it feels like I’ve been cheating now. Have you ever felt magic when I’ve been fighting?” She asked Anders.

“No.” He admitted. “But it’s not particular talent of mine. That’s your special gift, yours and your father’s and the Templars. But I think it does mean that you need to choose carefully which of these to touch the key to. The last seal you chose a talent you didn’t have. If you choose one that you already have from among these it might open your magic up more. It might make you more perceptible to them.” 

She sighed. “Wonderful. So choose something we don’t think I have or no fighting with or against the Templars, is that what you’re saying?”

“I think the best option is to try and block it. If you can’t block it then yes, avoiding the Templars would be wise.”

“Well at least I’ve had plenty of practice with that growing up.” She muttered. “What are my choices?” 

 

Fenris watched Anders through narrow eyes. The abomination knew now, and he hated that he of all people should have discovered it. Discovered. He practically came out and told the man. 

Isabela had been watching his face carefully, though she appeared to be lounging lazily against the archway. “You seem especially broody today.” She commented.

He turned his glare to her. “Does it bother you? Should I stop?” He snapped. 

Isabela ignored the temper. She knew he wasn’t angry, not at her, and probably not even at Anders actually. She had seen the reaction Hawke had had to Anders spell, and knew enough to know when someone had gotten all hot and bothered. She only vaguely understood what had happened between Hawke and Anders yesterday, but knew Fenris’ reaction hadn’t merely been worry over Kitten. No, this anger was all about that bastard he’d escaped from. So she just smiled at his scowl and ran her tongue over her lips. “No, don't stop.” She told him. “But could you add some smoldering to the routine? Just for me?” 

Fenris blinked in surprise. “Smolder? He repeated.

“Oh, and while you're at it, perhaps some cold insolence.”

He stared at her for a moment. “You want me to smolder and be cold at the same time?”

“Mmmm.” She confirmed. 

The corner of his mouth twitched as if he was trying not to smile. “Those don't go together...” He pointed out. 

She waved a hand at him. “Shush. Don't distract me with your logic.”

Unable to help it Fenris laughed out loud and then grabbed her and gave her a quick rough kiss before resting his forehead against hers. “I…” he started to say.

Isabela interrupted him. “What do you think of the puppy?” She asked gesturing to Carver who was watching his sister and Anders. Mostly Anders, and his look at the mage was less than friendly.

Fenris frowned, confused by the question. “He’s become a fine warrior. A credit to the Grey Wardens.”

“No.” Isabela interrupted again. “What do you think of the puppy?” She repeated slowly. She stared at Fenris, one eyebrow raised.

His eyes widened as he realized what she was asking. “I…I have no interest in men.” He wasn’t sure it was entirely truthful, but after what had just occurred and the memories it had raised, it was truthful enough. 

Isabela didn’t seem bothered by the response. “I’m not sure he does either.” 

Fenris frowned again. “So why raise the subject?” He asked.

She turned to him with a sultry subject. “Because I know for a fact that you both have an interest in me. And I do like being the center of attention.” She kissed him, catching his lower lip between her teeth, and letting it slide slowly out, before turning and walking slowly towards Carver, leaving Fenris staring after her, a slow smile curving his lips.

 

Anders had explained each of the symbols and after some discussion it was decided that they should touch it to the pillar that aided armor penetration. Anders thought she already had speed and draining health or stamina, something that affected another might to easily be detected by templars or even other mages.

Anabel put the Key to the pillar, prepared this time to block it, but instead of the magic flowing from the pillar to the Key this time it felt as if something was rushing eagerly out of her to meet it. She tried to block it, tried to put that imaginary barrier up and it all seemed to smash together and the impact seemed to reverberate halfway up her arm. She dropped the Key. Her hand felt numb and she flexed a few times until the feeling came back. She looked up at Anders. He looked grim. 

“You felt something?” She asked. 

“I felt something.” He confirmed.

“I blocked it, I think. It was harder than I thought it would be. It felt like it was looking for it.” She shook her hand, trying to get the feeling back into it, before bending and picking up the Key again.

“It?” Anders asked with a frown.

She seemed uncertain. “My magic? Something. But I think I blocked it. I suppose I’ll have to fight to know for sure. Luckily there doesn’t seem to be any shortage of things to fight down here.” 

They left the chamber through the now unsealed door and across the bridge at the other side. Larius was there, waiting for them pacing back and forth. He saw them and came shambling across to meet them halfway.

“Where have you been? Too long, too slow.” He reprimanded. “He is waking. The magic grows lax. He feels us walking where no step goes.”

“You mean Corypheus?” Hawke asked.

Larius gave a barely perceptible nod. “He calls like an Old God. He mimics them. He calls them to free him, the dark children and the light. Any with taint in their blood. He calls…”

Anders had to turn away. Larius’ words seemed to make the voice that had been calling stronger somehow, as if speaking of Corypheus, even not speaking his name out loud strengthened it. And to watch that shambling thing, barely a man anymore, to know that even if he were somehow to avoid being slaughtered by Templars that this was the fate that awaited him… 

“You were a Grey Warden.” He heard Hawke say softly. He looked up and found she’d moved closer to Larius, had actually put her hand on his arm.

Larius appeared startled by the touch. He seemed to draw himself up a little, and Anders wondered if it had been the reminder of what he was, or the small hand giving him what was probably the first human contact he’d had in years that had caused it.

“Yes.” Larius said. “There was a title too.” He strained to remember. “Commander.” He smiled and you could see a glimpse of the man he once was. “Commander of the Grey.” There was pride in his voice.

“A Warden Commander.” Breathed Carver, and it was hard to say if he was awed or horrified.

“It seems hard to credit” Said Aveline. 

“How have you survived down here for so long?” Asked Hawke.

Larius’ gaze grew distant. “The Calling. The music. It is our death.” He turned to look at her. “I lived but I died.” He said, as if it made any sense. “The corruption feeds me. I lived but I died.” He repeated. “So many years in darkness.” 

Anabel felt tears come to her eyes and had to blink them back. This wasn’t how anyone should end, let alone a Grey Warden who spent his whole life fighting to keep the world safe. 

From behind her Anders said softly. “The Wardens say once the corruption has gone far enough the taint sustains you and the darkspawn can’t sense you anymore, at least not sense you as different from them.”

“Yes.” Agreed Carver. “Your one advantage as you throw yourself at them.” 

She stared at them both, stricken at the thought of either of them brought to this. She couldn’t think about it now. She turned back to Larius. “You say he calls, but if Corypheus isn’t an Old God what is he? Human, demon, darkspawn?”

Larius shook his head. “More than darkspawn, more than human. He thinks. He talks. He pierces the veil. He wants what was once his. But he sleeps still.” 

“But that doesn’t make any sense. How can Corypheus be sending people after me if he’s asleep?”

“He can call, see but not know. When the seals have broken he will awake. We must stop him.”

She opened her mouth to say something, anything and there was a muffled whisper at the back of her head. Larius let out a small noise and she turned back to him. “Where do you go when you run off from us? How do you keep getting ahead of us?”

He seemed distracted as he answered. “I know the darkness before the seals. So many years hearing him. Here the voice is too strong. I cannot stay.”

Before she could stop him he’d turned and shuffled off again. 

The buzzing in her head seemed to grow louder.

“Does anyone else hear something strange?” Asked Sebastian. When she looked at him he had his head cocked to one side, as if listening.

“Oh thank goodness.” Said Anabel. “I thought it was just me. A sort of whispering right? But you can’t make anything out?”

“Can the rest of you hear him? I figured it was just me.” Anders looked around in surprise. No one denied hearing the voices. Relief flooded through him. It wasn’t just him.

“I can’t make out what it’s saying.” Anabel commented. “Can you?”

“Not really. It’s more of a feeling. A need to look for him. A compulsion.”

Anabel tilted her head as she looked at him. “Larius called it music and a song. It’s not just a summoning is it? It’s a seduction.”

“A seduction.” Anders repeated. “Yes, that’s a more apt description of it.” Seduced by a darkspawn. It sounded like the title of one of Varric’s novels. 

 

They were all somber as they head down to the next level. The bottom level as it turned out. 

For a moment they just stood there.

“Well this is ….different.” Hawke commented.

They were definitely underground now. Stalactites hung overhead. Ruins of buildings were all around, many of them half submerged in what seemed to be a rising lake but…

“The water’s on fire?” Said Aveline. “I don’t think that’s good.” 

Anders stepped into a puddle that seemed more slime than water. “Ugh. This is much wetter than I remember the Deep Roads.” 

“This was a dwarven city once.’ Muttered Varric. “There’ve been some alterations but this was home before the darkspawn came.”

“I can’t imagine Lothering looking like this.” Said Carver.

Anabel shuddered wondering just what Lothering looked like these days. “Makes Darktown look almost pretty.”

Merrill actually seemed on edge for the first time. “What a dreadful place.” She said with a small shudder. "If I were a darkspawn, I'd plant flowers. Brighten it up.”

“Any flowers down here would turn into man-eating petal monsters within the hour, sweet thing.” Isabel informed her. She didn’t look any happier than Merrill about this latest level. 

Merrill looked crestfallen. “Oh. Maybe just a nice still-life, then.” She peered to the side suddenly. "What's that?" And ran over to see.

There was some hissing and spitting and slithering from up ahead. Hawke turned her head towards the sound. 

Sebastian came up behind her. “Do you hear something?” He asked, brushing a stray curl back behind her ear. What Merrill had spotted what appeared to be some dwarven corpses and the others had gone over to investigate.

Anabel let herself lean back against her husband. “Other than Corypheus buzzing in my ears you mean? Yes. I think there’s something foul and nasty up ahead where the corridor opens up.” She was suddenly tired of towers and darkspawn and ancient evils. “When we’re done with all this will you take me somewhere nice?” She asked in a small voice. “Somewhere sunny and bright and lively?” 

His arms slid around her. She sounded weary and if not scared, certainly apprehensive. Either was unusual for her, and he was reminded that she was barely more than a girl. “Yes.” He promised. 

She smiled at his ready agreement. “Where?” She asked turning to face him and resting her hands on his chest. She looked hopefully up at him.

He pretended to give it some thought. “Antiva, perhaps? We could stay at a place overlooking the Rialto Bay. Leave the windows open to let the ocean breezes in, dine on richly spiced foods and exotic fruits. Stroll through the markets at night and drink Antivan wines and brandy. Stay up far too late and sleep until all hours the next day before starting it all over again.”

“It sounds perfect.” She said with a smile. 

He kissed the top of her head. “It will be.” 

Anders turned away from them. The voice in his head seemed to get louder, calling, demanding.

_Free me. Bring me the blood to free me._

It seemed to curl inside his brain, to probe as if seeking something, some knowledge. It flared triumphantly.

_The blood of the Hawke. Bring it. Bring her._

_No._ He told it.

There was a sudden flare of pain that bent him over. “Unh. Get out of my head!” He shouted.

“Anders!” He heard Carver yell. “Maker, it’s like he doesn’t even hear me.”

He felt Justice begin to panic and then Hawke was there kneeling in the muck in front of him. “Anders. I’m here. Don’t listen to him.” Her voice was calm and soothing, and he felt her hands on his, pulling them away from his face. The voice and the pain seemed to fade away. He slowly opened his eyes to find her smiling up at him. 

“Hey.” She said softly, clasping his hands.

“Hey.” He answered hoarsely. His fingers tightened on hers. He focused on her, on those eyes filled with affection for him. He rested his forehead against hers for a moment, and then pulled back.

“Better?” She asked with a smile.

“Yes.” He told her. Something about her, her voice, her touch, something had driven the voice back. He thought of what Larius had said about the Voice being stronger the closer you got to it. “I fear what the Emissary might do to me.” He whispered low enough that only she heard him. 

She smiled and kissed his forehead. “We’ll defeat him before anything like that happens.” 

_Do you promise?_ He wanted to ask like a small boy who’d been told the monsters in the wardrobe weren’t real and couldn’t hurt him. But before he could say anything she’d risen to her feet.

“Let’s see what sorts of new and exciting and I’m sure disgusting things this level has to offer, shall we?” She said resolutely. Without waiting for an answer she strode forward to see what the slithering had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	23. Holding Out Against Corypheus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and her companions come to the final seal, but Anders is beginning to lose his fight to hold out against Corypheus' voice

As it turned out there were quite a few disgusting things up ahead: giant spiders, a creature that seemed half weasel and half toothed worm that spit poison which Varric proclaimed to be ‘deepstalkers’. They came across strange artifacts and stranger puzzles they needed to solve to open enormous stone caskets.

It was Anabel who figured that one out, much to Isabela’s chagrin.

"What's wrong with this place?” The pirate complained with a scowl. “Why don't they have one decent regular lock to pick? No, it's got to be all magic and blowy lights. Pfft." She threw up her hands and stalked away out of the chamber.

They found a shrine to Dumat, not just one of the makeshift altars they’d come across before, but an actual shrine: the lamps were still lit, the altar looked as if it were newly prepared and just waiting for the offerings to be placed. Anabel dashed the ceremonial platters to the ground without any hesitation whatsoever. The shades and rage demons that sprang up in response were quickly defeated. If anyone disagreed with Hawke’s decision to destroy it, they kept it to themselves.

And of course there were darkspawn everywhere, in seemingly greater numbers the closer they came to the base of the tower.

They were taking a brief rest after defeating yet another band of the creatures. Anabel was sitting cross legged on the ground, pouring over a Grey Warden journal they’d found next to some remains that were little more than a pile of bones.

With all the darkspawn they’d slain, and all the reminders of the Old Gods and the magisters, Sebastian couldn’t help thinking of the tales the Chantry told of how the darkspawn came to be: the evil magisters who stormed the Maker’s city and corrupted it, turning it from golden to black. He turned to Fenris who was sitting on a stone block nearby. “Do they tell the same stories about the darkspawn in Tevinter, Fenris? Here it’s said the Tevinter magisters are responsible for the darkspawn. The Chant claims that pride was their greatest sin, and through their pride they infected the world.” He couldn’t help looking around what must once have been a thriving dwarven thaig. He’d always wondered at the use of the word ‘infected’, but seeing the remains of this city he understood it perfectly.

Fenris didn’t bother to mask his bitterness. “Slaves are not regaled with the Chant of Light, but I can easily believe it. Most magisters would consider this a challenge. Invent a sin that is greater yet.” 

“I know some ladies who could help them brainstorm.” Anabel commented, coming up from behind them. She was carrying the journal she’d been reading, and her finger was marking a page.

Sebastian smiled, marveling at her ability to joke about even this. He gestured to the book. “Did you discover anything useful?”

“More disturbing than useful I think. Listen to this:” She began to read.

_The records say Corypheus has been trapped below the Vimmarks since the days of the Tevinter Imperium. Can it be a coincidence that the darkspawn besiege this area more fiercely than anywhere else on the surface of Thedas? Or that Kirkwall, the closest city, suffers from endless plagues of violence, lunacy, human sacrifice, and blood magic? If one studies Kirkwall's public records, it becomes hard to deny that some malevolent force has long shaped its history. Could a darkspawn, even a powerful mage, have such influence even as it slumbers?_

Aveline arched an eyebrow. “So all Kirkwall’s troubles are this Corypheus’ fault? That seems a little too easy.”

“I’d agree but didn’t Justice say something similar.” Anabel asked, turning to Anders. “Something about the veil being thin in Kirkwall and that’s why we have all those things going bump in the night?” 

Anders was facing away from the rest of the group, looking towards the base of the tower. He didn’t answer. 

“Anders?” Anabel said again, a little louder this time.

He gave a small start, and she repeated the question.

Anders tried to shut out that voice that was whispering so insistently in his head enough so he could focus on what Hawke had said. “Yes, but he never said anything about what had caused it.”

“I thought the theory was that the veil was thin because of the magic worked by the magisters of old when they ruled in Kirkwall.” Said Sebastian.

Anabel let out a frustrated sigh. “I came down here hoping for some answers but we just seem to be getting more questions. So do we think Corypheus is the cause or is he just taking advantage of a weakness that others caused? We know he’s a darkspawn and a mage, there doesn’t seem any reason to doubt that given what we’ve experienced, but is he …” Her voice trailed off and she caught her lower lip between her teeth, lost in thought. 

“Maker’s tits, I’d forgotten how irritating it is when you do that. But is he what?” Carver demanded.

She let out a deep breath and turned to look at him. “I’m beginning to wonder if he might have been one of those magisters – one of the magisters in Kirkwall whose actions thinned the veil there. Or possible older even.” Her voice was more uncertain when she voiced the second theory, as if there was something she didn’t quite want to share yet.

“That’s impossible.” Said Anders, his disbelief plain. “The Tevinter Imperium left Kirkwall over six hundred years ago. Those magisters are long dead.”

Her head tilted to one side as she looked at him. “Are they?” She asked. “We know the taint sustains you without needing to take any other nourishment is it such a stretch that it could preserve you as well? We know Corypheus is a magister, we know he’s been tainted, and we know from what we’ve found in this tower that he’s been trapped here for hundreds and hundreds of years. Who’s to say he wasn’t in Kirkwall working his mischief at some point? And if he was the one who began all Kirkwall’s little quirks who’s to say he isn’t still doing it from a distance?”

“Oh that’s a comforting thought.” Muttered Varric. 

“Mmm.” Hawke agreed. “I only hope we can get some answers from Corypheus before we kill him.” The papers they’d found that said the Wardens had trapped Corypheus here, but they made it sound almost as if they’d stumbled across him and then decided to trap him. So had this been Corypheus’ tower originally? Was he the one who had been worshipping Dumat? Dumat was the first archdemon, so if he was worshipping Dumat he must have been here before the first Archdemon was slain.

No, that couldn’t be right. If Corypheus was here before that, before the first blight, then he couldn’t have been corrupted, couldn’t have been a darkspawn for the simple reason that there were no darkspawn before the first blight. 

Or was she just getting Chantry teachings mixed up with it all? And if you took Chantry teachings out of the darkspawn stories what were you left with?

She turned suddenly to Merrill. “What do the Dalish teach about the creation of the darkspawn, Merrill? You don't believe in the Chant of Light...or the Maker. For you there is no Golden City to be corrupted. So how do you explain where the darkspawn came from?”

Merrill blinked in surprise at the sudden rush of questions and her eyebrows came together in a small frown. “Well,” She said after a few moments. “We don't get into many details, but we're pretty sure it's the humans' fault.”

Anabel stared at her for a second and then started laughing. “Fair enough and probably true given what we know about it, and given what happened to Arlathan. I suppose the magisters would have been human.” 

Anders was shaking his head. “No. You can’t possibly be gullible enough to actually believe that magisters trespassing in the Maker's city were responsible for the first darkspawn?” 

She gave a small shrug, not at all intimidated by his obvious contempt for the idea. “Well, that is the popular opinion.”

Anders threw Sebastian a contemptuous look before turning back to her. “You’ve been listening to too much Chantry propaganda, Hawke.” 

“And I suppose you have another theory?” Sebastian asked, working carefully to keep his voice even.

Anders rolled his eyes. “The darkspawn live in the Deep Roads.” He said, as if he were explaining to a very small child. “They respond to the call of the Old Gods. Why would we think they have anything to do with humans—or the Maker—at all?”

“Before Tevinter, there were no darkspawn.” Sebastian reminded him. “There are written records showing it. Do you think it's just coincidence they appeared when they did?”

Anders gave a small derisive snort, as if he hadn’t expected Sebastian to answer any differently. “Well, I certainly don't think it's a coincidence that the people the Chantry blames are the same ones they're trying to oppress.” 

Anabel was close enough to see the muscle in Sebastian’s jaw clench. “I think you're getting it backwards.” He said quietly. 

Anders took a step towards him and Anabel felt Justice flare so powerfully that she actually winced. It was the first time she’d felt him since she’d given Anders her mana. So did that mean the effects of what she and Anders had done the night before were wearing off? It was a question for later, she decided. She stepped between them about to say something but Carver spoke first.

“What does it matter where the darkspawn came from?” He said impatiently. “They’re here. They need killing. So let’s bloody well go and kill them.” 

Anders gave a humorless laugh. “Oh, they must just love you. The perfect little Warden. They just point you at the darkspawn and say ‘kill’ and you kill.” 

Carver’s nostrils flared angrily. “I'm not the coward you are, if that's what you mean. Hiding down in Darktown, ignoring my responsibilities.” 

Anders pulled himself up, seeming to bristle at the accusation. “The plight of every mage is my responsibility. You'd think with your lineage, you'd understand that.”

Carver was apparently unimpressed by the argument. “Your whining ranks a little lower than the end of the bloody world. But do go on. And on.” 

“Gentlemen? I’m not sure this is quite the best time for this argument.” Hawke pointed out.

“Is it wrong to want a world worth saving?” Anders demanded stalking.

“A world?“ Carver sneered. “Or just your own hide?”

If they had heard her they’d ignored her. _Crap_. She knew Carver and Fenris, and probably Sebastian as well, blamed Anders for what had happened to her earlier. What they didn’t seem to realize was that with everything else going on down here, the last thing they needed was for Justice to make one of his unexpected appearances. “Enough!” She shouted. They all turned to look at her. “Less complaining, more surviving-the-dungeoning.” She said in a softer voice.

They were all unusually silent as they continued away from the decaying dwarven settlement, heading up a curving path that seemed to lead to the tower. Anabel was in the lead walking between Fenris and Sebastian, with Carver and Aveline behind them. Merrill, Isabela and Varric followed, and Anders brought up the rear lagging behind them. Anabel reached out tentatively, both to see if her ‘magic’, for want of a more specific word, was working again and to get a sense of how Justice was doing.

 _Shit_. He hadn’t quieted, quite the opposite. This couldn’t just be from the argument before, could it? 

Sebastian glanced down at Anabel as she looked over her shoulder yet again. There was a deepening frown on her face and she was slowing down.

He’d just opened his mouth to ask if everything was all right when she suddenly turned around and pushed past him and Carver, hurrying back towards Anders, just as the mage bent over, clutching his head. 

Before she could reach him he’d started shouting. “I’m not listening! I’m not listening.”

“Hawke!” Varric called out, but she was already running past him and sliding to her knees in front of Anders.

“Anders?” She asked softly, as the others joined them. She glanced up. “Give us a little room, okay?” They did as she asked, except for Varric. That was all right though. After her, Varric was the closest friend Anders had.

Anabel reached out and touched Anders cheek gently and he jerked away from her.

“Get out of my head!” He shouted.

“And the abomination is hearing voices. How unexpected.” Said Fenris scornfully.

“We made a mistake bringing him down here.” Sebastian whispered grimly to Fenris. 

Anabel heard it and there was a flash of annoyance in her eyes as she glared at both of them. “You’d be dead if we hadn’t.” She reminded Sebastian before turning her attention fully back to Anders who was bent over again, clutching his head.

“Come on, Blondie.” Varric coaxed, putting a hand lightly on his back. “You're strong enough to overcome this.”

“Stop!” Anders yelled, and Anabel didn’t think he was talking to Varric or to her. He finally looked at her, recognized her and his eyes were pleading. “Just make him stop talking! Make him stop!” 

“Anders?” She reached up and pulled down his hands away from his head. 

“You should stay away from me.” His voice was harsh.

“Not a chance.” She said firmly. She smiled and Anders rested his forehead against hers. She reached up and stroked his hair.

Sebastian gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to yank her away from him. She simply refused to see the danger of the man even now. He wasn’t going to make that mistake. He readied an arrow. Carver and Fenris exchanged a look and drew their own weapons. 

Anabel saw the movement and her nostrils flared in annoyance, but she couldn’t take her attention from Anders for long enough to even give them a dirty look.

Anders let out another groan and pulled his hands free, clutching his head again. 

“I’m here Anders.” She told him, trying to take hold of his hands again. “Listen to my voice. Focus on that.”

“Think... happy thoughts! Raindrops, roses, kittens!” Merrill called out helpfully.

He didn’t seem to hear either of them now. “Too much taint in my blood…the voices.” He said, fighting to get the words out. His head jerked up to look at Hawke, and she could see the brown slowly changing, glowing, beginning to swirl. 

Boy’s hackles rose and he began to growl softly.

“Go to Carver, Boy.” Hawke ordered sharply. The mabari gave one more growl and disappeared behind her.

“Help me.” Anders begged. His skin began to run with blue lines. “I … will not…” His whole body went rigid and the he slowly stood, as that unearthly energy began to swirl around him and when he spoke his voice was deeper echoing around them. “…be controlled.” He said and the blue churning light that filled his eyes grew so bright it glowed almost white. She had to look away, and when she looked back it was Justice who stared down at her.

“Let it go.” Hawke warned the spirit as she got to her feet. She tried to resist the urge to draw her own weapons. “There’s a better way to fight Corypheus.”

Justice slammed the staff on the ground and two shades materialized beside him. 

Justice could summon shades. 

Anabel leapt back, so startled by this revelation that she lost her balance and fell to the ground. One of the shades lunged straight for her and she only just managed to evade its grasp.

“Shit!” Yelled Isabel, as the second went charging at her and Merrill. 

“Don’t attack Anders.” Anabel yelled behind her, hearing the others come charging up. “Get the shades.” She shouted, even as she dropped to the ground to avoid the ice spell Anders – Justice – sent towards her. _Shit._ “Varric and I will take care of Anders.” 

“Anabel.” Sebastian warned. He fired repeatedly at one of the shades and it vanished in a puff of dark smoke. Carver and Fenris took care of the other. “Get away from him. Let us do what needs to be done before he harms you.”

“I’ll be fine.” She ducked down suddenly and swept her leg out and Justice fell flat on his back. She rolled to her feet and crouched there, waiting. _Please stay down, oh Maker, Anders, please stay down._

He didn’t. 

_Shit_ , she thought again as he pushed himself upright moving in a way that didn’t seem quite human. 

She scrambled to her feet, moving to keep herself between Anders and Sebastian. She didn’t think Sebastian would hurt Anders, or at least he would try not to, but it would be better to just keep him from getting a clear shot.

“Anabel move!” It was Carver this time.

“It’s okay.” She insisted. She could feel Justice gathering his magic, pulling it from around him, and she actually wasn’t so certain it was going to be okay. Would a smite work on Justice? Maker, she hated to do it but…

She was saved from having to make the decision by Aveline’s plowing into him with her shield. He fell again, and this time he didn’t get up.

“Aveline!” Anabel dropped to her knees beside him. “I told you Varric and I would take care of him.”

Aveline seemed entirely unperturbed. “I thought you’d rather I knocked him down than have him cut in half or pierced by arrows.” She said, gesturing with her head to where Sebastian, Fenris and Carver were standing, only just lowering their weapons, and looking decidedly grim. For once Sebastian looked grimmer than the other two. 

She heard a noise from behind her and turned back to find Anders stirring. He opened his eyes, and they were their usual warm brown. 

Relief flooded through her and she helped him sit up and then pulled out a healing potion, uncorked it and passed it to him. “I can’t take you anywhere, can I?” She said with a smile that didn’t quite hide the worry in her eyes.

“His voice was in my head.” Anders said hoarsely. “I guess it’s true: you never can leave the Wardens.” He said handing her back the empty flask. He gave a small shiver. When he looked back she was watching him solemnly.

“How’s Justice?” She asked carefully. She couldn’t feel the spirit, but her own talent had been so odd lately she wasn’t certain she should be depending on it.

For once Anders didn’t bother to insist ‘he and I are one’. “Quiet for now.”

“Corypheus scares him.” Said Hawke quietly. It wasn’t a question.

“He fears being taken over. He fears losing control.” Anders answered just as quietly. 

“Hypocrite thy name is Justice.” Hawke muttered.

“He’s right to be afraid, Hawke.” Anders told her. “I only hope I can hold against him.” He wondered briefly whether he was talking about Corypheus or Justice as well. He glanced over Sebastian and Fenris and Carver: Carver was scowling, Fenris was outright glaring, and Sebastian’s face was carefully neutral, but Anders noticed he hadn’t put his bow away. None of them had put their weapons away. He didn’t really blame them for that.

Hawke didn’t seem to have noticed the reactions of the others, or didn’t seem to care. “You’ll hold out against him. I’m not losing you to this. I refuse.” She said simply. She stood, dusting the dirt off her trousers and held out her hand. 

He took it and let her pull him to his feet. “It’s that simple? Just ‘you refuse’?” _Maker, she was a stubborn little thing._

“Yes.” She told him. She reached up and smoothed down the feathers on his pauldrons. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m becoming quite good at getting my own way.” 

Anders actually smiled. A tired smile, but a smile nonetheless. “I think that’s a skill you’ve had for a while actually.” He caught her hand where it still rested on his shoulder and held it tightly for a moment. “Hawke…thank you.” 

His eyes were so haunted that she felt her throat tighten at the sight of them. She forced herself to give him a saucy smile. “Anytime.” She said going up on her toes and kissing his cheek. “Let’s keep going.” 

As they continued up the path. Varric moved beside Anders and began distracting him with one of his outrageous stories, Isabela soon joined in, trying to outdo him.

Sebastian reached out and put his hand on Anabel’s arm, stopping her and letting the others get ahead of them. When there was enough distance that he didn’t think they’d be overheard he turned to look down at her, unsmiling. “I did notice what you did just now.” He informed her.

She blinked innocent eyes at him. “What I did?” 

His expression didn’t change. “You deliberately put yourself between us and Anders.”

“Yes.” She agreed, making no attempt to deny it. “The three of you lack a certain understanding where Anders is concerned.” 

“I might say the same of you.“ He answered quietly. 

“Anders would never hurt me.” She insisted. She couldn’t quite look him in the eye when she said it, he noticed.

“Perhaps not.” He agreed. “But Justice would hurt you – has hurt you in point of fact.” He fought to keep his voice even. He didn’t know how he could make her realize it; this was the third time Justice had attacked her. 

She scowled, but he noticed she didn’t deny the charge, and he took the opportunity to press his advantage. Stepping closer to her he slid one hand around her neck, tilting her head up so she had to look up at him. 

“Don’t do that again, Anabel. Don’t keep me from protecting you when you need protecting.” Those vivid blue eyes seemed to glow, offering the only color in the unrelieved gloom of the sickly light around them. “For one heart stopping moment yesterday I thought that creature was going to…. “ He couldn’t even finish the sentence and he leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers, bringing his other hand up and cradling her face between them. “I thought you would be killed, Anabel, I thought you would be killed and that I was going to have to stand there and watch it happen. And then just now when that demon took over I thought it all over again.” He leaned down and kissed her, fast and hard and possessively, his lips warm and firm against hers, and then pulled back so suddenly that she was left staring up at him, her whole mouth tingling. “Let me protect you if I can.” He repeated.

She opened her mouth to answer him, but before she could, he kissed her again curving one hand around the back of her neck and moving the other to her back, pulling her closer to him. This kiss was gentler, though no less masterful, and she found herself sliding her arms up around his neck and kissing him back, trying to reassure him that she was here and fine, that no harm had befallen her. “I don’t know what I would do if anything were to happen to you.” He muttered between kisses before finally pulling back. “Let me keep you safe.” 

Her eyes softened as she looked up at him. “Okay.” She said quietly, resting her head against his chest. 

He let out a soft laugh and kissed the top of her head. “Just like that?”

“Yes." She said. “I find I rather like the idea.” She looked up at him. How on Thedas had she managed to find this man, find him and fall in love with him, and miraculously have him fall in love with her as well? She couldn’t keep a pleased smile from her face. 

And he couldn’t keep from smiling back at her, though he was shaking his head. “We’re trapped in the Deep Roads about to fight something evil and powerful and entirely unknown and you’re smiling.” He pointed out to her.

Her smile deepened. “I love you. And strangely enough you love me too. Surely that’s worth a smile?”

“A thousand smiles.” He agreed. 

She glanced up the path. Their companions were almost out of sight around the bend. “We’d better catch up.” 

The others were waiting for them by the entrance to the seal. 

“Nice of you to join us.” Varric commented. “You two done making out in the Deep Roads?” 

She blushed but couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, where’s your sense of romance, Varric?” She asked.

“Back in Kirkwall.” He answered without hesitating. 

She laughed again and walked over to Anders who was already looking at the columns around the seal. 

Carver glanced at Sebastian. “Did you manage to talk any sense into her?” He asked.

Sebastian watched her as she walked up to Anders smiling and talking as if he hadn’t just tried to kill them all. “Andraste only knows. I tried. She listened and agreed. But Andraste only knows if she’ll remember that ten minutes from now.”

Carver gave a small huff of laughter. “You do know her well, don’t you?”

 

“Hey.” She said as she walked up Anders.

He gave her a smile that managed to be both tense and weary.

She looked at the seal. “So what lovely gifts will I be taking home from this one?” 

“Increased chance of damage, increased chance of hitting you target and these two I’m not entirely certain of.” 

“I hate mysteries.” She muttered. “No clue at all?”

“I think this one slows down your enemy, but I’m not sure if it means his reaction time is slower or if he quite literally slows down as if it were a spell.”

“That would be a little hard to explain.”

“Yes. And this one I think means to knock down. Though it might mean an increased chance of stunning them.” 

She chewed on her lip. “The first two I might already have. We don’t want to increase something I already have. The third is at best one that others would feel the effect of and at worst an actual spell, so no to that one. I’d say the last one.”

Anders nodded. “Yes, I think it’s the best option.”

She looked around the chamber. It was much larger than any of the other seal chambers and the realization made her uneasy. “Let’s spread out.” She called to the others. “I think we might have a bigger fight on our hands with this one.”

It turned out to be all too accurate a hunch. Miraculously none of them ended up with more than superficial injuries. 

Anabel had leapt at the last Guardian, taking it down and plunging the Key into its skull, and when it disapparated the way they did, summoned back to the fade, or wherever bad demons went when they died she’d landed sprawled face down on the ground. She rolled over onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Maker, how many of those things had there been? She tried to remember but lost count at twelve. Sebastian fell to his knees beside her. He looked fine. Better than fine. “I should have been an archer. You always look much better after a fight than I do.” She told him tiredly.

“You’re all right?” He asked.

“Oh yes. Just resting for a bit.” She told him. She remained where she was.

“How is it you always show up when the battle’s done?” She heard Isabela demand. 

She turned her head to the side, too tired even to lift it. Larius was shambling towards her. “Please tell me that was the last seal.” She told him. “Because I’m getting a little bored with these demon-y guardian things.”

Sebastian smiled, but Larius just looked confused. She supposed a couple decades down here wouldn’t go far towards maintaining a sense of humor. 

When he spoke his voice was almost apologetic. “There is still one more.” 

“Marvelous.” She heard Anders mutter. She turned to look at him. He was healing a bruise that had swelled Aveline’s eye shut.

“And how many guardians on that one?” Anabel asked, conversationally. “Twenty? Thirty? Do they disappear and reappear as well? Or do they do something different? Perhaps some sort of elaborately choreographed dance number?” She closed her eyes again, making no move to get up. Larius still hadn’t answered after a minute or so and she opened her eyes again.

He was standing there, still looking confused. “No. No more guardians. Only one more to fight.” 

“Only one?” She held out her hand and Sebastian pulled her so she was standing upright. “Truly?”

“Only Corypheus.” Larius said earnestly.

She somehow resisted the urge to flop backwards to the ground again. “Oh, is that all?” She got to her feet. Anders had his hands on Merrill’s side, and she wondered if the elf had broken a rib. She looked around the chamber. The architecture seemed different here, but Merrill had been right in her assessment when they’d first seen the tower: it did have a certain beauty. When she looked at Larius she found him smiling.

“The Hawke was always fascinated by the construct, always stopping to examine the carvings.”

She couldn’t help smiling back. “That sounds like Da.” 

“He was a learned man.” Said Larius. “Weeks down here, working together. He never liked me.” His voice trailed off. At Hawke’s curious look he muttered. “Too much bad blood.”

Had it been the demons, the blood magic, or something else? She wondered what Larius would have been like before the taint, and before the madness. Would he have been one of the good Wardens like Nell Cousland and King Alistair? Or like one of those Wardens who had driven Anders and Justice to merge? 

The fact Da hadn’t liked him made it more likely to be the second option. 

Anders finished healing Merrill, and they gathered themselves together and followed Larius out of the chamber. He led them to a staircase and as they got closer there was a sudden tremor that shook the whole structure. 

Larius turned anxiously towards them. “He feels the seals weaken. He knows you are close. You must be ready.”

Anabel was about to reassure him that they were when he turned to look to one side. “What’s that?” He asked in alarm.

Anabel turned where he looked. She could hear faint voices – real voices, not Corypheus annoying buzzing. She turned back to Larius.

He seemed more agitated than ever. “No! No! They are here!”

“The Carta?” She asked.

He turned to look at her. “No! Something more dangerous and more treacherous. The Wardens.”

“The Wardens?” Carver repeated. He actually looked relieved. “That’s good isn’t it?”

“They want to release Corypheus!” Larius told them. “He cannot be released!” 

He ducked to the back of the group just as four wardens rounded the corner, all in the silver and blue uniform, led by a middle aged woman, a mage. She was talking and didn’t notice them at first. “It’s stood up to tunneling before…” She saw them and stopped in her tracks and blinked in surprise. “You came through the seals.” She said immediately.

“We didn’t realize tunneling was an option.” Hawke said dryly. The woman was staring at her so intently it was unnerving. She was about to comment on it when the woman spoke again.

“Are you Hawke? The child of Malcolm?” She sounded almost eager. “My name is Janeka. Stroud told me he met you in the Deep Roads.”

“Lovely.” Anabel muttered. She turned to Carver. “Thank Stroud for me the next time you see him, would you?”

Carver ignored her. “Senior Warden, what does our father have to do with all this?”

The woman’s eyes went to Carver and then back to Anabel and then to Carver again. “Don’t you know? Without your father this prison would have fallen 25 years ago. It requires the blood of a mage not part of the wardens. The last to perform the ritual was your father.”

So the Janeka had been here as well. “My father did blood magic?” She already knew the answer from Larius, but she was curious to see what Janeka would say.

Janeka’s eyes narrowed and Hawke could see her trying to decide what they might already know. She gave her her best wide-eyed innocent stare in return and actually batted her eyelashes a couple of times. 

“He didn’t bind the demons here if that is what you’re asking.” Janeka said smoothly.

It was both the truth and a lie; Da had bound the demons, but without blood magic. He’d used blood magic to reinforce the seals on Corypheus prison. Oh this Janeka was a slippery one, Hawke thought. She didn’t like her, and she especially didn’t like the way she was looking at her, like she was the final ingredient in a very tricky recipe.

Which she supposed she was in a manner of speaking.

She looked over at Sebastian. “Why do my family stories never involve embarrassing vacations to Antiva?” She asked him. He didn’t smile and she turned back to Janeka.

“We need your help Hawke. I have done extensive research on Corypheus and I believe the earlier Wardens were wrong. I believe he can be of use to us.” She quickly outlined her plan. Release Corypheus and use his knowledge to end the blights once and for all. “He isn’t a threat to humanity he’s our greatest opportunity. A darkspawn who thinks, reasons,” 

“No!” Larius pushed into view. “You are wrong Janeka! He cannot be controlled.” 

“The Warden Commander!” One of the other Wardens gasped.

Janeka looked appalled by the sight of him. “Don’t listen to him Hawke. Look at him. He’s half darkspawn himself. I can control Corypheus.”

Fenris gave a disgusted snort. “Mages, always fiddling with forces too powerful to control.”

Sebastian looked less certain. “This is a warden uncorrupted, Anabel. We can’t say the same for Larius. An end to the blights. Just imagine.” 

She just raised an eyebrow. “And all the papers we found, all those Wardens saying he can’t be controlled? Even asleep he’s controlling most of those who venture in here.” 

“I’ve studied those papers Hawke.” Janeka told her. “I’ve learned from their mistakes.”

“An end to the blights. It seems a child’s dream.” Said Aveline. 

"I don’t see the harm.” Merrill offered.

Fenris snorted. “Of course you don’t. A darkspawn and a mage. What could possibly go wrong?”

Janeka took a step towards Hawke. “Stroud wouldn’t let me have your brother, Hawke. I need you.” 

Anabel turned to Carver. “Again, a big thanks to Stroud for that.” She turned back to Janeka. “Convince me. Because so far, you’re not really making the case for releasing him.” She wanted to see just what Janeka would offer.

“Don’t do it Hawke.” Warned Anders. “Nell killed the last one of these emissaries we met, and with good reason.” He shuddered remembering their encounter in the mine with the architect.

“I’ve been studying this for years.” Janeka insisted. “Since your father was here. Release Corypheus and I can control him. This prison will be broken. The blights will end.”

Larius ignored her, looking at Hawke instead. “Hawke you must listen. Janeka is blind to the truth. Corypheus is using her.”

 _Yes,_ Hawke thought. _But how to keep her from preventing us from even making it to Corypheus?_

And then she knew exactly how to accomplish it. Her lips curved into a smile. She turned back to Janeka. “All right. The chance to end the blights is too good an opportunity to miss. We’re with you, Janeka.”

“No!" Larius cried out. “Hawke you cannot do this.” 

She just shrugged carelessly and even though Sebastian approved of her decision, he was surprised; it wasn’t like her to be so callous.

Larius drew himself up and again she caught a glimpse of the commander he used to be. “Dursten, Alec, Roland.” He said, naming the other Grey Wardens. “I led you. Who do you serve?” After barely a moment’s hesitation they moved to Larius’ side, with Janeka screaming her outrage at their desertion.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, sister.” Muttered Carver behind her.

She whirled around to face him. “I’m getting awfully tired of you doubting me, Carver. If that’s the way you feel maybe you should go with them since you’ve got so little faith in me.” 

Carver looked stunned and for a moment he just gaped at her. She widened her eyes and looked pointedly over to where Larius and the other Wardens were heading. _Come on Carver_ she thought, and then his eyes widened as he realized her plan.

His face twisted with rage. “You always think you’re smarter than anyone don’t you? Champion of Kirkwall! Always think you know best. Well you’re wrong about this, Sister.” He shouted. “The same way you were wrong about Bethany and mother.”

Her hands clenched into fists. “You bastard.” She shouted back at him. Sebastian put a concerned hand on her arm and to his surprise she angrily shrugged it off. 

Carver nodded at him with a smirk of a smile on his face. “Yeah, now you’re getting a glimpse of what she’s like when she doesn’t get her way." He turned back to Anabel. "You’re going to get the rest of them killed as well. Lots of fodder for your adventures, right? And you always come out without even a scratch.”

“Go on, get out of here.” She yelled. “And take Isabela with you. I don’t want to look at either of you.”

“What?” Said Isabela in surprise.

“You heard me.” Anabel shouted, turning to face her. She winked at the pirate. “Go on.” She said, still shouting. “I know whose side you’re really on.” Who knew if any of the Grey Wardens had Isabela’s less reputable but more useful skills.

“Fine.” Shouted Isabela. “I was getting tired of your goody-goody act anyway.” She moved to join Carver.

“And take your mangy hound with you.” Anabel screamed at him. 

Boy gave her an offended look and stalked over to Carver.

“Larius, hold up, we’re with you.” Carver called out and the three of them turned and ran to catch up to them.

“Good riddance!” Anabel shouted after him.

Isabela turned around and made a particularly rude gesture and Anabel had to struggle not to smile, but when she turned to Janeka she had just the right expression of fury and hurt on her face.

“Thank you Hawke.” Said Janeka. “I’m sorry your brother didn’t understand.”

“Carver’s an idiot.” Hawke said politely. “He’s always resented me. Now let’s get to Corypheus, shall we?” She walked up the stairs beside Janeka, leaving her companions staring after her. 

Varric let out a chuckle. “She puts on a good show, I’ll give her that.” He hoisted Bianca onto his shoulder. “Come on.”

“A show?” Sebastian repeated. He’d been as stunned by her tirade against Carver as the rest of them.

“She’s making certain each group has Hawke blood.” Anders said pushing past him and running to catch up to Hawke and Janeka. 

Sebastian still didn’t understand. 

“No matter who reaches Corypheus first, or if one group is defeated, there will still be a Hawke to break the seals.” Fenris explained. He and Varric hurried after the other three.

“It’s not always easy to keep up with the way her mind works, but strangely enough she gets results.” Aveline told Sebastian before following.

It had all been an act, Sebastian realized. Anabel had no intention of helping Janeka release Corypheus. An uncorrupted Warden. He had forgotten that uncorrupted wasn’t the same as good, he realized remembering how quickly the other Wardens had deserted Janeka for their old commander.

He felt like an utter fool.

“It’s all right.” Merrill reassured him. “I usually don’t realize what they’re doing either. Come on.” She said, pulling him by the arm. “We’d better catch up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	24. Corypheus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and her companions confront Corypheus

“So does anyone else feel like we’re walking into a trap?” Varric was asking, as Sebastian and Merrill hurried up to them. “No? Just me then?” 

Hawke shot him a look over her shoulder, so cold that even though Sebastian knew it was an act he was momentarily worried for the dwarf. “If you leave now, Varric, you can still catch up to the others I’m sure.” 

Varric held his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender. When Hawke and Janeka had turned around again, continuing up the stairs he grinned proudly at the others, as if he took sole credit for her acting ability.

What was waiting in the room at the top of the stairs surprised all of them: a group of Carta dwarves, the same dwarves who had attacked Sebastian and Anabel back in Kirkwall. 

They looked just as startled to see Hawke and her friends. Weapons were immediately drawn, and it was only Janeka’s shouting that stopped the two groups from charging at each other.

“Stand down you fools! Hawke is with us now.” Janeka yelled.

Hawke lowered her weapons but didn’t sheathe them, and her companions followed her lead. 

The leader of the Carta dwarves peered at them uncertainly. “Janeka?” 

_Hawke is with us now._ Anabel felt a blaze of pure rage rush through her, and she had to fight to control it. It had been Janeka who’d ordered the attack on them. The image of the sword hilt smashing into Sebastian’s skull, and his collapsing to the ground flashed in her mind. Oh, she’d suspected Janeka was slippery but she hadn’t suspected anything like this. 

The dwarf looked as confused as Hawke felt. “Janeka and the Hawke, together?” He spoke in the same halting way as all the other dwarves they had encountered down here; as if stringing words together in coherent sentences had become a struggle. Hawke couldn’t help wondering just how much darkspawn blood they had consumed. 

She turned to face Janeka, struggling to keep her expression neutral. “You were the one who sent the Carta after me?” She’d honestly thought that Rhatigan and the Carta dwarves had been acting on their own, controlled only by Corypheus.

Janeka barely glanced at her, and there was no hint of remorse when she spoke. “I hope you can forgive me. If I had known you would cooperate, I wouldn’t have.” She turned back to the dwarves without waiting for a response. 

_You didn’t bloody well bother to find out did you?_ Anabel had to clench her jaw to keep from saying it out loud. 

“Larius is leading a party to Corypheus.” Janeka told the dwarves. “Stop them.” 

The dwarves turned and left the chamber without a question, almost as if they were under a spell. Flames, maybe they were, Anabel thought as she watched them leave. She wasn’t certain she would put anything past Janeka now. 

There was a sudden strange rushing noise. Magical barriers sprang up in several doorways, and Janeka let out a curse. “Larius.” She muttered, crossing to one of the now barred doorways. “He’s activated the old barriers.” She turned and crossed to what seemed to be a switch of some sort on the other side of the room and examined it. “Yes.” She said with satisfaction after a few moments. “I can take down the barriers, but not all at once. I have to do it one at a time. Larius has slowed us but he can’t stop us.”

“When we were going through the seals Larius kept getting ahead of us. How is that possible when the seals were still in place?” Anabel was beginning to think this impenetrable tower wasn’t nearly as impenetrable as the Wardens had thought.

“He’s been rotting down here for twenty years.” Janeka pointed out. “He knows the secrets of the place better than anyone.” She worked some spell and the barrier vanished. “There.” 

They left the room and walked without speaking, though Janeka was casting sideways glances at Hawke that she pretended she didn’t notice. After a few moments she spoke. “You look very much like your father. The resemblance is quite remarkable.” 

Hawke wondered where this was leading. Janeka didn’t seem one for idle chatter. “Yes, everyone says so.” She agreed.

“Truly remarkable.” Janeka repeated. “We want to go this way.” She pointed with her staff. “Tell me.” She said nonchalantly, as they walked towards the next switch. “Is it you or your brother who’s the eldest child?” 

Anabel was instantly alert. ”What does that matter right now?” She asked, letting just a hint of irritation into her voice. 

Janeka was looking straight ahead and gave a small, deliberately unconcerned shrug. “When Malcolm was here he spoke of your mother’s pregnancy. I was merely curious if that child was you or your brother.” 

_Oh, of course. You were just curious. Right._ Anabel thought sarcastically. “You got awfully chummy when he was down here, didn’t you?” She said airily. 

Janeka still wasn’t looking at her. “We were down here for weeks. It was natural that we would have talked.”

“My mother couldn’t have been more than a few months along at the time; I don’t think many people even knew about it at that point. I can’t imagine why Da would have bored you with it” 

“Perhaps he was excited about being a father and wanted to share the news.”

 _Of course. The runaway apostate who’d knocked up a nobleman’s daughter just wanted to chat with a complete stranger about his impending fatherhood._ She laughed, all light-hearted charm. “Da did like his conversations, didn’t he? I inherited that from him as well. People always tell me I chatter on too much.” She said, giving Janeka a brilliant smile.

The Grey Warden smiled back, but the smile was strained at best.

Anabel knew she was waiting for the answer, but she pretended she didn’t and just walked along beside the woman and had actually started whistling tunelessly, when Janeka spoke again.

“And were you that child?” Janeka finally asked.

Hawke looked surprised by the question. “Oh. We had another sister. She died back in Ferelden.” 

Neatly done, thought Sebastian hiding a smile. Anabel hadn’t lied, not outright, but she’d certainly implied that Bethany was the eldest of the siblings. 

“Oh.” Echoed Janeka. “An illness?”

“No. An ogre while we were fleeing the Blight. You can see why I’m so keen to put an end to them. The blights I mean. Well, the darkspawn too.” 

“Yes.” Janeka answered absentmindedly “This sister…” Janeka started to ask.

“Bethany.” Hawke interrupted.

“Bethany.” Janeka repeated a bit impatiently. “Was Bethany a rogue like you, or a warrior like your brother?” 

_Oh, she knew._ Hawke would bet her life that Janeka knew what Da had done, had even assisted him with it perhaps. The answer to the secret she’d wondered about for so long was right here next to her. She could confess that she was that eldest child and ask what had been done, but….

But she didn’t trust Janeka in the slightest. She quickly weighed the desire to know just what Da had done with the danger of Janeka’s learning the outcome of the spell and there was only one answer she could give. “Oh, neither.” She said airily. “Bethany was a mage like Da.” Though she desperately wanted to see Janeka’s reaction she forced herself not to look at the woman. “Is that another switch there?” She asked, pointing across the chamber they’d just entered.

Sebastian had been watching Janeka carefully, and though she tried, she couldn’t hide the look of bitter disappointment that came over her face. “Yes.” She answered, probably more sharply than she intended. “It is.” She strode across the chamber towards it. 

Anabel stayed where she was staring after the Grey Warden mage. 

Sebastian came up beside her. “Are you all right?” He asked softly. 

Anabel motioned for the others to follow Janeka and then turned to him. “Kiss me.” She demanded loudly, sliding her hands up his chest and around his neck. 

Sebastian glanced over at Janeka and saw she was watching them with a faintly contemptuous sneer on her face. 

Anabel went up on her toes and pulled his head down towards her. “Kiss me.” She repeated, just as loudly.

Realizing there was an ulterior motive to the request, though he didn’t quite understand what it was. Sebastian put his hands on her waist, bent his head and brushed his lips lightly against hers. When he began to straighten up her grip on him tightened, preventing him from doing so. 

“Don’t pull away. Janeka’s watching.” She whispered against his lips and she kissed him again, more deeply this time. “She knows what Da did, did you see?” She asked, as she nibbled her way along his jaw towards his ear.

“Yes.” He whispered. It had been all too obvious what Janeka had been trying to find out. Anabel suddenly ran her tongue lightly along the curve of his ear, her breath hot against the sensitive skin, and his head jerked back. He looked down at her, unable to keep the heat from his eyes.

And just seeing that, her breath came faster. _Oops._ She hadn’t intended to… she stared back at him, and ran her tongue over her suddenly dry lips, and then let out a small sound as he grabbed hold of her braid and wrapped it once around his hand, pulling her head back just slightly. He bent forward and pressed his lips to her throat. 

_Maker._

Sebastian knew this was all an act to cover up their conversation, but he could feel her pulse racing beneath his mouth, and that sound she had let out. How long had it been since he’d heard that sound? Since he’d caused her to make that sound? He should have better control. It was just an act.

But of course it was never an act between them.

His mouth travelled to that sensitive spot just below and behind her ear and his teeth grazed along it. 

Anabel couldn’t help writhing against him. She turned her head, digging her own hands into his hair, forcing his head back so she could kiss his mouth again. She ran her tongue along his lips, upper and lower, slowly, savoring the feel of them, imagining how they would feel on her. Sweet Andraste she wanted that, and she wanted to taste him, not just his lips but everywhere. 

And she wanted him to do the same to her.

 _Crap._ Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea. She hadn’t wanted Janeka to think they were talking or thinking about anything but sex, but she hadn't meant for this to happen either. 

Had she?

_Focus, Anabel,_ she told herself. _Now is not the time_. But in spite of the reprimand, she gently bit at his lower lip, letting it run through her teeth before she released it. 

A shiver went through him, and Sebastian pulled his head back to look at her. He was breathing hard as well. She couldn’t read his expression.

 _Crap._ She thought again. She’d definitely taken it too far. She opened her mouth to say something, to apologize, to say she hadn't intended, and gasped when he suddenly lifted her up so their faces were level. Her legs automatically went around his waist and then he was kissing her again, hard and deep almost too roughly at first, but then more softly, until it was just feather light nibbles at her upper lip. 

She couldn’t stop a small moan.

“Get a room!” Varric called out. 

Neither responded to the taunt, but it had reminded them of what they were supposed to be doing. 

“She hired those Carta dwarves to attack us.” Sebastian whispered.

“Yes.” She murmured. She bit his earlobe – lightly, but a bite all the same. “We need to watch her carefully.” She said, quickly licking at the bite. “I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her.” She nibbled on his ear again, more gently this time, and then sucked lightly on it. “Is Janeka still watching?”

He’d had his eyes closed. He opened them and glanced over at the woman. 

She was, with a very annoyed expression on her face. He turned them, pressing Anabel against a nearby pillar. His back was to Janeka now, and his body shielded Anabel from view. He kissed her again. “Yes. You never trusted her did you? From the moment we met her.” 

She looked up at him, her eyes huge and dark in the dim light. “No.” She said simply. 

“She had me fooled entirely.” He admitted.

He looked so disappointed that she couldn’t resist giving him another quick kiss. She curled her small hands around the sides of his neck. “I think I’ve just had more experience with crazy than you.” She said, leaning her forehead against his and nuzzling her nose lightly against his cheek. “And you’re good. You believe in law and order and that people follow the rules. That people who look sane and trustworthy are sane and trustworthy.”

He gave a short laugh. “I sound like a fool.”

She shook her head. “No. You have faith in people. You’re truly good.”

“And you aren’t?” He asked his voice soft as a caress. 

She shook her head. “No. Not the way you are.” She leaned in and kissed him again.

“Hawke.” Janeka shouted, her irritation plain. “We need to go.”

Anabel gave him a last quick kiss before squirming out of his hold. She turned towards the others. “Sorry Janeka. Newlyweds you know.” She said, slipping her hand into Sebastian’s. “Watch her carefully.” She said under her breath.

Sebastian nodded, and they walked back to the others, but his mind was racing. What would Anabel do when she found out just how not good he truly was? How he’d lied and evaded and deceived, so that he could have everything.

He forced himself to put it from his mind. Now wasn’t the time.

“Really Hawke?” Varric commented as they walked up. “Again with the kissy-face?”

“I think it’s nice.” Said Merrill. “This place would be much more cheerful if there were more kissing going on.”

Fenris let out a disgusted snort, and Anders who had already been scowling, scowled even more deeply.

“I couldn’t help myself.” Hawke told them unapologetically, walking towards Janeka.

Janeka had already opened the next barrier but this room wasn’t empty. Darkspawn; alphas and hurlocks, even an emissary, all quickly defeated.

“I know we’ve been down here too long when I start to think matter of factly about killing darkspawn.” Anabel commented. 

Janeka was working another switch, and as Hawke walked towards her she spied a parchment on the ground. She bent and picked it up, read it, and passed it silently to Sebastian before walking to join Janeka.

Sebastian looked down at the paper.

_My dearest brothers and sisters,_  
 _I am leaving to take that last long walk into the deep. I have been a Grey Warden for a full thirty years, and the Joining can only hold back the taint for so long._  
 _These last months, the song of the Archdemons has become not a whisper to me, but a terrible roaring that I cannot endure. My conscience compels me to leave before the corruption becomes too much, before the madness takes over._  
 _It has been my honor serving with every single one of you. I go to the Deep Roads to meet my death in combat against our eternal foe. When my brothers in Orzammar salute my departure, I will walk proudly in my duty, and joyful in the knowledge that my burden will soon be lifted._  
 _Remember me, and do not fear your own Calling, when the time comes._  
 _—Larius, Commander of the Grey._

But he hadn’t met his death. He’d been alive for twenty years down here growing more corrupted, slowly losing his mind. Sebastian suddenly wished he could have met Larius in his prime. This letter, this farewell made him sound exceptional. He tucked the letter inside his tunic, not wanting to leave it there. Perhaps he would give it to Brother Plinth to file away in the Chantry Archives, where others could see it. Yes. It would be preserved in the safety of the Chantry, a reminder of the sacrifice of the Grey Wardens.

After a few more doors and a few more switches and quite a few more darkspawn, they walked through a final door, and miraculously they were outside again. Sebastian looked up at the sky. It was a deep blue, but turning lighter. It was dawn. He’d lost all sense of time while they were trapped. He looked over at Anabel to see she had her eyes closed and her face lifted to feel the wind and he was reminded of how she had done the same when she’d returned from that first Deep Roads trip. He understood it completely now.

They followed Janeka up a curving path, and there it was in front of them: the very top of the Tower with the massive griffon statues and that strange glowing, swirling magic that they noticed when they first arrived at the chasm. It glowed eerily in the darkness and you could see the last seal. The magic was centered there.

“Oh, that’s nice.” Said Varric coming up beside them.

Hawke let out a small snort. “What’s so nice about it?”

“I was wondering what some place sinister and foreboding would look like, and here it is.” 

Hawke looked around wondering where Carver and Larius were. The dwarves couldn’t have stopped them, could they?

As they reached the arched doorway leading to the seal she heard a bark, and Boy came tearing up to her. She couldn’t keep the smile from her face as she bent and nuzzled his head. “They’re safe?” she whispered at his ear, and Boy let out and enthusiastic bark. She straightened up and there they were, all of them: Carver, Isabela, Larius and the other Wardens. They all seemed unharmed.

“You can’t stop me Larius.” Janeka told him triumphantly. “The Wardens will see I’m right. With Corypheus’ power we can end the blights forever.”

Larius ignored her, speaking directly to Hawke. “Hawke you must listen. Janeka is blind to the truth. Corypheus is using her.”

Curious as to what the mage would say Hawke turned to look at her. “Is that true?” She asked with a small tilt of her head.

“Of course not.” Janeka snapped. “He’s insane. His mind’s been destroyed by his years in the darkness.”

“She is not fit to wear the griffons! She is a traitor to the wardens.” Shouted Larius.

“I agree.” Said Hawke. 

Janeka’s mouth fell open and she gaped at her in surprise. 

Hawke just shrugged. “Nothing personal, but you’re kind of crazy, Janeka. And a bitch. Wait, I guess that was personal.” 

Janeka’s face filled with rage. “You’d turn on me now, when I am so close to my goals? How dare you!”

Hawke looked hurt by the accusation. “Oh, don’t be like that. How about I say sorry?” She suggested. “Sorry.”

“I will kill you, take your blood and bind Corypheus to my will!” The mage snarled at her.

Anabel felt her pull her magic and with no hesitation, and surprisingly little effort she let out a smite that caused the mage to stagger back. She had to put a hand on the stone arch to keep from falling to the floor of the chamber. 

She lifted her head and looked at Anabel in confusion. “That was a smite.” She said dumbly.

“Surprise.” Anabel said with a cold smile. “Da’s little ritual worked, but not quite the way he thought it would. Turns out magic likes to find its way out. Any way it can, apparently.”

Drained of her magic, Janeka let out a roar and charged at her.

Before Hawke had a chance even to react, Larius had tackled Janeka to the ground, his gauntleted fists slamming into her skull over and over again, reducing her face to a crushed mass of bone and blood. Her body twitched grotesquely and then was still.

Larius stayed there for a moment, breathing heavily and then slowly pushed himself to his feet.

“You’re fast.” Said Isabela in an admiring voice. “Like a mangy, blighted little mongoose!” 

Larius seemed perplexed by the compliment. “I…have never been called that before.” 

“Thank you.” Said Hawke with a warm smile.

Larius turned his gaze to her. “You stood up to her. It was my duty to protect you.”

Hawke walked over to him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” She repeated.

He seemed to stand taller. He turned quickly to the other wardens. “Dursten. The Wardens must know of this. You and the others must tell them, even if it means going to the Anderfels. Go.” 

Without a word, the three Wardens turned and left.

Larius turned back to Hawke. “If we fail and Corypheus rises then the others must know.”

Hawke nodded. “I agree.” 

She looked over at Carver. “Really? Throwing Mother and Bethany in my face? You had to go there?”

He just smiled at her. “Wanted to make it look real, didn’t you? You heard her. She’d been talking to Stroud. Who knew what sort of stories about us he’d shared.”

Anabel gave a small grunt. “If you hadn’t been such an ass the night of the Qunari there wouldn't have been any.” She pointed out. “Jerk.” But there was a smile on her face.

“Bitch.” He replied with a grin.

She glanced at Isabela. “You have fun?”

Isabela gave her a lazy smile. “Just me and five burly Grey Wardens? How could I not, Kitten? Remind me to thank you when we’re done with all this.” 

Anabel laughed as she walked into the chamber, the others following close behind. The four griffon statues stood in open niches along the circular walls. She looked at the magic spilling out of their mouths, meeting at the seal in the center. “What needs to be done?” 

“The switches.” Larius said, gesturing to the statues. “Stop the flow of magic to the seal.”

“Right.” Said Anabel. Her heart was thudding uncomfortably. They were really going to do this: release an unknown, incredibly powerful creature from its prison and then try and kill it. And if they failed? She caught her lip between her teeth. 

She felt Sebastian’s hands on her shoulders and she tilted her head back to look at him.

His eyes were steady, loving and unwavering. “You, we, can do this, Ana.”

Her man of faith. “Yes.” She said with a smile. She reached up and stroked his cheek. “We can.” 

She walked to the first switch and touched it. There was a dull sucking sort of sound, louder, and the flow of magic from that statue vanished. 

“One down.” Varric said.

“Are we sure about this?” Carver asked nervously.

Anabel tilted her head as if she was considering her options. “We could leave a strongly worded note on his sarcophagus and go.” She suggested.

“Oh, shut up.” Said Carver. 

They moved on to the second switch, the same sound, the same abrupt cessation of magic, but there was something more this time.

“You feel that? It’s like something is lifting.” Said Varric.

“Are you sure this is wise?” Asked Aveline. Hawke didn’t remember her being this nervous for a long while.

“It takes Hawke blood to open the prison. I can’t imagine he’ll stop trying. I can’t imagine he’ll stop at anything.” She told her.

“Isn’t that always the way with these ancient prisons.” Fenris muttered.

She disabled the third switch and they could all feel the difference now.

“The air is changing.” Said Merrill. She sounded fascinated by it.

Hawke approached the fourth switch and eyed it warily. 

“Maybe we should prepare ourselves.” Varric suggested. “You know, for the end of the world or something.”

“Varric.” Hawke chided. “You were an optimist when we first met. What happened?”

“You mostly.” He informed her.

“Oh, you wound me Varric.” She touched the switch and the sound was different somehow. The magic seemed to spiral lazily back into the statue. There was a sudden pop and the four small pillars around the seal began to glow blue.

Hawke raised an eyebrow. “That’s new.” She glanced over at Larius. “What now?”

“The Key is not strong enough anymore. You must use your blood. On the seal.” He said, gesturing towards it.

“Blood magic.” She said flatly. She looked around. Except for Merrill every one of her companions seemed to share her uneasiness at this revelation. “Shit.” She said softly, and began pulling off her gloves. She looked up at Sebastian with a bravado that she didn’t quite feel. “Off to do a bit of blood magic, dear. Wish me luck.”

He bent down and kissed her instead. “We can do this.” He repeated.

She turned and walked to the center of the seal, and tucking her gloves into her belt, she pulled out the small dagger she kept at her waist. Blood magic. Add that to the things she’d never thought she’d do in her lifetime. It was right up there with fighting the Arishok. Hopefully this would have a better ending. Taking a deep breath she sliced her palm open and then squeezed her hand into a fist. The blood dripped down over the center of the seal and the instant it touched the ground, the platform seemed to spring to life. Glowing light spread through grooves she hadn’t even noticed were there, and then the whole thing glowed so brightly she had to close her eyes. A beam of the same light or magic shot up from the center of the seal, and she found herself reaching for the Key without understanding why, the same way she’d had to reach for it when they first found it. She pushed it into the beam. It hovered suspended there for a moment, and then there was an explosion of sound and light and she and the Key were thrown back, almost to the wall of the chamber. The others ran to her, and Sebastian and Anders pulled her to her feet just in time for her to see the seal open and Corypheus rise through it.

He was like nothing she’d ever seen before: tall, twice her size at least, and oddly misshapen, as if he’d broken apart and poorly glued back together again. Too tall and too thin, his arms and hands too long and his fingers and nails almost claw like. His armor and skin seemed to overlap: chunks of armor wedged on the side of his face, and pieces of flesh stretched out over his iron chestpiece. No, she realized, he didn’t look like he’d been broken. He looked like he’d been pulled apart and stuck back together and that someone had then tried to mold him to his original shape, like he was clay or soft wax. She couldn’t help wondering if it hurt. She couldn’t help thinking it must. If the outside was such a mess, what must the inside be like?

He hovered above the platform and then slowly sank down until his feet touched the ground. He looked around, puzzled. “Be this some dream I wake from?” His voice was harsh and his manner of speech odd, archaic. He saw them standing there and drew closer, though he didn’t leave the platform. He peered at them. “You. Serve you at the temple of Dumat? Bring me hence. I must speak with the First Acolyte.”

Larius came up beside her. “He speaks of the Old Gods. Of the Imperium.”

“You look human.” Corypheus said thoughtfully. “Are you not citizens of the empire? Slaves then to the dwarves? Why come you here?” When they didn’t answer he grew impatient. “Whoever you be you owe fealty to magister of Tevinter. On your knees. All of you.” He commanded.

“Oh he’s a charmer, isn’t he?” Hawke muttered before stepping forward. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Buttercup, but the Free Marches haven’t been part of the Imperium for six hundred years.” 

Varric and Isabela both snorted back a laugh and Sebastian shook his head at her sheer gall, remembering their encounter with Allure, or Ethel, as Hawke had dubbed her. _She gives demons nicknames,_ Varric had said. _It’s just something she does._

Corypheus frowned at her.

“You’re a darkspawn, Buttercup. Darkspawn.” She repeated, carefully enunciating the word. “Ravaging the Deep Roads, spreading the blight? Does any of that sound familiar?” 

“You are what held me. I smell the blood in you.” Something in the way he spoke let her know that he was entirely focused on her now, and it wasn’t a comforting thought at all. He moved closer and his head tilted as he looked at her. “And something else.” He said finally, his frown deepening. “What are you?” He said, not as if he didn’t know, but as if he needed reminding. He turned away suddenly. “Dumat.” He called to the sky. “Tell me, what waking dream is this?” 

“Dumat was the first of the Old Gods to become an archdemon. There haven’t been temples to him since Ancient Tevinter.” Said Anders softly.

“The light.” Muttered Corypheus, and again it sounded like he was trying to remember something. “We sought the golden light. You offered the power of the gods themselves. But it was black. Corrupt. Darkness ever since.” 

“Golden light.” Sebastian repeated staring at the creature. It couldn’t be. “ _With magic born of mingled blood and lyrium the Tevinter broke into the Maker’s house. But the promised power did not await them there._ ” He recited softly. “It was their sin for which all mankind was punished. Can it be that one still lives?”

“Dumat!” Corypheus called out, more loudly. “I am your faithful servant. Why have you forsaken me?” 

“He speaks of the Golden City.” Larius sounded almost awed. “The first violation. The magisters who brought the blight. He’s one of them.”

When they’d first heard of him Anabel had wondered if it were possible, but she honestly hadn’t expected it… 

“That’s ridiculous.” Scoffed Anders. “There were no magical bogeyman who trespassed in the Maker’s city. It’s a story.” 

“You don’t think a magister would be arrogant enough to challenge the Maker? You need to meet more magisters.” Said Fenris scornfully.

Anders ignored him and turned to Hawke. “You can’t believe this, Hawke.”

She had been watching Corypheus. “Unless Corypheus is for real, everyone who knows what happened is long dead. It’s possible.”

“And you don’t think it’s a little convenient? What does every sane man and woman in Thedas fear? The blights. Why not pin those on mages too?” 

Sebastian bristled at the implication. “Of all the paranoid…”

Larius interrupted as if neither man had spoken. “He tainted the world. He speaks to all who carry the corruption. Darkspawn. Wardens. He brought Janeka here. Brought you.”

Anabel glanced over at him. “But what’s his plan? He seems… confused.” He was pacing back and forth calling to his long dead god. _He seems like a raving lunatic_ , she thought to herself.

“He slept. While the seals held he could not wake. He knows nothing of time that has passed. We must kill him now. Before he comes to. Before he regains his strength.”

Hawke nodded in agreement. “If he could reach the Black City who knows what else he’s capable of. He needs to die.”

“You really think he was one of the original magisters? That he’s been to the Black City?” Carver asked uneasily.

“The city.” Corypheus exclaimed as if Carver’s words had reminded him of it. “It was supposed to be golden. It was supposed to be ours.”

“First he goes after the Maker in his house, then me in mine.” Hawke grinned suddenly. “I’m honored.”

Carver could only goggle at her. “And you’re married to a priest? It’s a wonder you don’t get struck down on a regular basis.”

Anabel glanced at Sebastian who was smiling indulgently at her. “Sebastian puts in a good word for me.” She told him with a twinkle in her eye. “Takes most of his time, keeping me from being struck by lightning.” 

“What manner of speech is this?” Corypheus demanded. “How long have I slumbered?”

Anabel turned back to him. “Well, it seems you’ve been naughty, Buttercup.” She explained. “And being sent to your room seems to have done no good, so I’m afraid a more drastic punishment is called for.” 

He stared down at her. “You dare to speak to me like this? A magister of Tevinter?”

“I know!” She agreed. “I’ve no manners at all.” 

His face twisted with anger. “If I cannot leave with you I shall leave through you! I seek the light!” He pulled himself up, hovering several feet above the platform. She could feel him gathering his magic, reaching for it.

“Uh-oh.” She said in a small voice.

Larius turned and ran for the exit. A magical barrier sprang up behind him.

“Uh-oh?" Carver echoed. "Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Grant me your gift Dumat!” Corypheus shouted. “Fire in my veins.”

Fire shot from his hands and he began spinning, slowly rotating as fire spread from his hands across the width of the chamber.

For just a second she could only stare at the sight. “Maker's Breath.” She said softly and the she felt the heat of the flames coming closer. “The Alcove! Run” She shouted. Maybe it wouldn’t reach them there. She ran to the nearest of them, to the top of the stairs, up by the statue. She shouted to the others, urging them on. They huddled there as the flames swept past. Sebastian and Carver had both attempted to shield her from the flames, almost crushing her against the statue. She heard one of the others give a grunt of pain.

“You cannot avoid my fire.” Corypheus yelled out. “I am an acolyte of Dumat! You cannot harm me. Run all you like. I can reach you anywhere.” 

The heat lessened and she pushed herself free of the two men, looking at Corypheus again. How was he doing this? She wondered looking around, frantically. There. The statue: there was a trail of magic from it again.

“Is he drawing power from the statues?” Hawke asked.

“We should destroy them while we can.” Shouted Fenris. 

She touched the switch again, and two shades sprang up. They destroyed them quickly but Corypheus' flames were back and she found herself once again shielded by Carver and Sebastian. When the heat had passed she shoved at them. “I do have armor of my own, and the two of you are going to smother me. ‘Death by Grey Warden armor’ That’s going to look ridiculous on the memorial wall.” She looked out at Corypheus. “We should split up. Get it done faster.”

And that’s what they did, running to each alcove, fighting the shades that were summoned, dodging flames, and then boulders thrust up through the floor, and chunks of ice that fell from above, and finally shocks of electricity that shot between the boulders.

“If he pulls a dragon out of his ass, I’m leaving.” Varric yelled when the lightning began. 

Anabel couldn’t help laughing, in spite of her growing exhaustion.

“We can’t keep fighting him like this!” Said Aveline bending close to Hawke’s ear.

“I’m open to suggestions if you have any.” She yelled back.

Things would build to a frenzy and then cease abruptly, and then Corypheus would suddenly appear in the midst of them. They would attack en masse but whenever they seemed to be making some headway in the fight he would vanish and reappear on the seal, seemingly uninjured, and the whole thing would begin all over again. And while he attacked and they scurried around quite literally in circles he would taunt them, telling them to scurry like rats, and feel the chill, and burn. 

“Perhaps a little more!” He shouted and summoned a storm of wind and lightning that surrounded the tower. 

By the fourth time they attacked him, or he attacked them, Corypheus seemed almost as tired of it as they were. He focused those strange eyes on Anabel.

“You are stronger than I thought.” He told her. “How? You are not even a mage. You and the elf – your kind is just fuel.” He said scornfully.

She gave him a grim smile. “A little more than that, Buttercup. And we’re neither of us anyone’s fuel.” She hit him with a smite, putting everything she had into it.

It was strong, perhaps the strongest she’d ever managed, and he felt it, it slowed him, there was no doubt, but not nearly enough and it seemed to perplex him more than anything. “What are you?” He asked again.

He sent out a sudden pulse of magic and she grunted at the impact. It didn’t hurt, not exactly but it thrust through her and stayed there. It was hard to breathe, hard to move. She saw the others rush towards her and, as if they were flies who irritated him, Corypheus cast some sort of paralysis spell. She could see them struggling against it. Corypheus paid them no attention, still frowning at her. That magic thrust into her again, stronger this time, and then to her surprise, it ceased abruptly and strangely it was Corypheus who recoiled back.

“ _Arcebatur_.” He sounded horrified. “No! You are no elf, to have this done to you!” He was suddenly directly in front of her, bent almost double to look at her. “Who?” He demanded. “Who has done such a thing?” The words were an echo of Hadriana’s when she’d realized what Hawke was.

“It was done to protect me.” She told him.

He seemed to dismiss the excuse. “You would have had no need of protection! You would have been powerful – a magister to match any Tevinter has produced.” 

She spun suddenly, slashing her dagger across his throat and sprang back, crouched in front of him, waiting for the next attack. 

The black blood began to flow from his neck, thicker and slower than was normal. Corypheus’ hand fluttered to the wound and he looked vaguely surprised at the blood – surprised but not terribly concerned.

 _Shit_. Hawke thought.

“Such a fierce thing for one so small.” He commented. “What would you do if you had magic at your disposal instead of such puny weapons? I can give you back the power that was taken. Not easily, but it could be done.” He told her. “Yes. You would be formidable. Worthy to serve Dumat.” He gestured with his blood covered hand. “You just have to let me in.”

Alarm bells went off in her head, a hundred conversations with Da when she was younger, telling her the dangers of demons. She’d thought at the time that Da was just talking, telling her about his own experiences. What if he hadn’t been? What if he had been warning her, teaching her how to deal with demons. What if he had been warning her about Corypheus in particular?

“Come to me.” Corypheus said suddenly, and his voice was different: deeper, stronger, more compelling.

Sebastian could only watch, held in place, unable to even call out to her. She stepped closer to the creature as if she couldn’t help herself, as if she was bewitched. _No._ His mind screamed. _We were so close, so close to defeating this monster, so close to destroying him._ It couldn’t end like this. _Andraste, aid us._ he prayed desperately.

“Yes, come to me.” Corypheus repeated, and his voice took on a coaxing almost caressing tone. 

She was barely a foot from him. He bent forward and his hand reached out to stroke her hair briefly, and he cupped her face almost gently. “Yes.” He said. “That’s right. Just let me in.” 

Sebastian saw Anders begin to crackle with blue lines. Would Justice be able to break free of the spell? For once he welcomed the appearance of the spirit.

Justice’s voice came out strained and slow, but he seemed to be able to resist the spell, to move, albeit with great difficulty. “ **You…shall…not…have…her.** ”

Corypheus looked up and laughed. “You cannot stop me, spirit. Not trapped as you are in another’s body. Careless of you to be caught like that. You cannot keep this from happening.” He told him and then let out a sudden grunt of surprise. He looked down in astonishment at the Key, now protruding from beneath his ribcage, shoved in all the way up to the hilt. His eyes lifted to meet Hawke’s.

“No, he can’t.” She said coldly. “But I can.” She yanked the Key out suddenly, and whether it was the magic of the Key or something else, this time the blood flowed fast and freely, gushing out of the wound. 

Corypheus collapsed to his knees, the same astounded look on his face, disbelief and just a hint of panic. He looked past her, beyond the barrier to where Larius stood and his eyes closed as he collapsed on the ground in a pool of blood. 

Anabel threw the Key down on top of the body and ran to the others. Whatever had frozen them had vanished, as had the barrier trapping them in the tower. She flung herself at Sebastian and he swung her off her feet. 

“I thought he had you.” He muttered, clutching her tight against him. 

“I could feel him in my head. It felt…” Like something was slithering its way into her brain, tickling along the edges but it wasn’t a physical thing but someone else’s will. She shut her eyes and held Sebastian tighter. “Awful. It felt awful.” 

“Father was right to hide this.” Carver said, and she lifted her head to look at him. “What wardens must do? It isn’t for normal people to know.” 

She let go of Sebastian’s neck and he let her slide to the ground. “Well, I certainly won’t be telling the tale in Kirkwall.” She gave Varric a pointed look.

“No one would believe it Hawke. Not even of you.” The dwarf said. “You always steel my best stories.”

Merrill’s eyes were huge in her face. “Did he really walk in the Black City? _Mythal’enaste_.”

Anders was kneeling beside Corypheus’ corpse. As she walked towards him he got to his feet, holding out his hand. “An amulet. The design hasn’t been used since before the first blight. It belonged to a small sect who worshipped Dumat." He looked down at the corpse. "He really was a magister. One of those magisters.” He said turning back to her. His eyes were strangely bleak. “If they were right about this, what else might the Chantry know?” 

“They were right that a few evil men did this. But they did this because they were ruthless power hungry evil bastards, not because they were mages. And even if it is true it doesn’t justify punishing all mages over a thousand years later.” Anabel told him.

She wasn’t even certain Anders heard her. “What else might be true.” He said clutching the amulet in his hand. “I’ll need to study this further.”

“That thing corrupted the seat of the Maker. I wasn’t meant to think about this.” Aveline said under her breath. She wanted to get back to Kirkwall. Back to the barracks, and the guards and to Donnic. To things that were constant and true and certain. 

Anabel looked past her to the bridge where Larius still stood. She wondered why he didn’t join them. Was he ashamed that he had run? She walked out towards him, with others following.

“You did well, Hawke.” Larius said as she approached. “More than the Grey Wardens of old were able to accomplish. I will tell the Warden Commander of what you did.” 

“I’d be careful. We don’t usually come back from the Calling.” Carver told him.

“I must try. You’ve gained an ally today.” He turned to face her and there was a focus in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.”

Something wasn’t right. “You sound different.” She said warily.

He smiled, a strangely confident smile. “Slaying Corypheus has cleared my mind. Without his call I can think again. You have my thanks.” 

“I killed him because he was a menace, not for your thanks.” She said sharply.

The smile remained but there was a hint of amusement behind it now. “I know.” He told her. “That’s why you were the right one to do it. My thanks you have for my freedom.” He turned and walked away from them. 

He’d sounded like Corypheus. She shivered suddenly, watching as Larius disappeared down the path. No. It was just raw nerves. Corypheus couldn’t have the power to do that, to put himself in someone else's body.

Could he?

She felt Sebastian’s hand on her shoulders. She leaned back against him taking one hand and pulling his arm around her. He seemed to understand and wrapped both arms around her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

She wouldn’t tell him or the others her fears. “Yes. Just ready to leave this place.”

“Yes.” He agreed.

Isabela walked over to them and handed Hawke a slightly bloodstained letter.

“What’s this?” Hawke asked.

“Found it on the crazy bitch’s corpse.” Isabela told her. “I think you’ll want to see it.”

Anabel looked puzzled but took the letter and opened it. Sebastian started to pull his arms away but she reached up a hand and held them there and began to read. 

_Warden-Commander Larius:_  
 _I have been considering your offer, and I accept your terms. In addition to what was discussed, I find a payment of twenty-five sovereigns per seal to be sufficient. All I require from you is your promise that my wife will be kept safe while I am gone, and that Lord Aristide Amell will be convinced to let Leandra leave Kirkwall with me when I return. I wish for my bride and I to be free, and I do not intend to have her father's men hunting us down._  
 _Before we depart I would also like to confirm your statement that the ritual does not require contact with demonic influences. I would also like to discuss this "darkspawn of magical talents" in greater detail. It quite defies belief that the Grey Wardens have kept a secret of this magnitude buried so close to Kirkwall._  
 _I await your reply._  
 _Malcolm Hawke_

She stared at the words on the paper: _In addition to what was discussed._

“Fuck!” She said angrily. “Damn it to the Void.” 

It was Carver who said what they were all thinking. “What the fuck is wrong?” 

“Larius knew! _In addition to what we discussed_. It was part of the agreement for him to strengthen the seals. Whatever magic it was that Da worked on me, Larius knew and he’s gone. Janeka knew and she’s dead, and Corypheus is … “ She faltered. “I had three people who could have told me and now there aren’t any. It’s just as much of a mystery as before. And I was so fucking close to the answers.” She was close to tears and when Sebastian reached for her she let him pull her close. “Fuck.” She repeated again, more softly. She’d never know now. 

They left the Vimmark Chasm shortly after and when the sun was low in the sky the decision was made to stop at an inn about half a day from Kirkwall for something to eat. Sebastian excused himself at one point during the meal and when he came back announced he had gotten rooms for them to spend the night.

Anabel had wanted desperately to make it back to Kirkwall, to her own home and her own bed. “We’d get there late but we could make it surely.” Her protest was interrupted by a yawn she was unable to conceal.

“As tired as you are I’m not convinced you wouldn’t go right past Kirkwall and wind up in the Planacene Forest.” Sebastian told her. “This way you can have a bath and a good night’s rest. Kirkwall isn’t going anywhere.”

“More’s the pity.” Muttered Anders. 

Anabel laughed leaning against Sebastian. “A bath sounds wonderful. How are we dividing up?” 

“I was able to get four rooms. Anders, Varric and Carver can share one, Aveline and Merrill in another. Which leaves the last two for…”

“Fenris and I, and then you and Hawke can have the last.” Announced Isabela. 

Sebastian could have kissed her.

Anabel looked up at him and blushed and quickly looked away again. 

Sebastian knelt down beside her. “That’s all right?” He asked softly. 

She smiled shyly. “Of course. We’ve shared a bed before. No worries.” 

 

The bath was a narrow and shallow thing, made of tin, but after so many days in the Deep Roads it felt wondrous. Sebastian had left her alone with it, and with a plain cotton nightgown that he’d purchased from the innkeeper’s wife. It felt good just to put on something clean.

She didn’t remember falling asleep but she remembered Sebastian climbing into bed beside her, and pulling her close, before pulling the covers up over them both. She remembered nuzzling close up against him and wondering why he wasn’t wearing a shirt, but enjoying the feel of his skin against her cheek, warm and firm, that perfect feeling of being almost enveloped in his arms, and the feel of his hands stroking her still damp hair.

She woke up just as the sky was getting light. The fire had died down and the room was cool and without thinking she pressed back against the warm body behind her, feeling something hard pressing against her.

Her eyes flew open as she realized just what.

She’d heard Isabela talking about ‘morning wood’, and knew it could be an involuntary reaction. They were pressed up against each other. He probably wasn’t even awake. She knew all that.

What she hadn’t known and hadn’t expected was that it would feel so good to have the hard length of him pressed up insistently at her back even through her nightgown and his smalls.

And then she realized that the nightgown was hiked up around her waist. It was just his smalls between them. He was still asleep. She couldn’t help it. She pushed back against him, imagining…

Imagining there were no layers of cloth at all between them. Imagining that she could feel the heat of him, skin against skin. Imagining him sliding between her bare thighs. She pushed back again, wiggling her hips against that hardness.

 _Maker._ She rotated her hips pressing against him again, and this time he pushed back.

He pushed back and then froze.

 _Well, he’s awake now._ That little voice in her head told her.

Shit. Awake or asleep? Which should she be? 

His hand went to the bare skin of her hip and she felt his breath warm against the curve of her ear. “Ana?” He murmured. “Love?” He stroked her hair back.

“Yes?” She said tentatively. She was an awful person. Rubbing up against her husband’s involuntary morning erection while he was unconscious. Did that count as breaking a vow of chastity? She didn’t think so. Maker, she was horrible. 

He was uncomfortably hard and still trying to process what he’d woken up to. That hadn’t been just snuggling. She’d been rubbing up against him. He couldn’t help smiling. She wanted him. 

He thought about doing it, seducing her, having her here and now.

No. When he made love to Anabel Hawke Vael for the first time it would be perfect. In that ridiculously large and luxurious bed of hers, with silk sheets and wine and candles and flowers, not in a cheap roadside inn, on a rickety bed with rough cotton sheets, when the others might be knocking on the door at any minute.

However if she didn’t stop…

“I’m afraid being this close has produced a…reaction.” He told her. “Do you think you might move a bit forward.” He would have moved himself but he was already at the edge of the bed.

She scrambled away so quickly the she actually fell off the opposite side. 

“Anabel?” He said in concern, and shifted closer to the other side just as her head peeked up at the edge of the bed. He couldn’t help smiling. “Are you all right?”

“I’m sorry.” She said, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen her look so guilty.

“It’s all right, Ana.” 

“I couldn’t help…I didn’t mean…” She caught her lip between her teeth and closed her eyes. Honesty. As long as they were honest they would be okay. “I woke up and I felt…” She opened her eyes and stared at him. “It felt good. I wanted to feel more.” She told him. “I’m sorry.” She said again.

He lay down on his stomach, resting his chin on his folded arms. Their faces were only inches apart. “It’s all right.”

“I shouldn’t have done it. Your reaction was involuntary. Mine…mine wasn’t. We won’t be sharing a bed back in Kirkwall. It won’t happen again.” She said resolutely.

 _It bloody well will._ He thought. _But not here. Not this morning. But soon._ He smiled at her. “Shall we get dressed and see what sort of breakfast is offered?

She smiled in relief. “Yes. We wanted to get an early start. You go down and get us a table and I’ll make sure the others are up.”

 

The others weren’t up, but her insistent knocks took care of that. She’d left Fenris and Isabela’s room for last, mostly because she was worried about interrupting…something, but when she knocked, after some muffled speaking Isabela’s voice called out. “Come in.” 

Thank the Maker. She wasn’t walking in on anything. She opened the door and entered the room. Isabela was sitting up in bed with the sheets pulled up under her arms. “Morning Kitten. Sleep well?” 

Anabel just stared. Someone was sprawled on his stomach beside her. Someone tall and big with black hair. She shut the door and stormed up to the bed. “What is wrong with you two? What about Fenris?”

“What about Fenris?” Isabela asked lazily.

“Don’t you play innocent with me.” Anabel said, pointing an accusing finger. “You know exactly what about Fenris.”

Carver let out a groan and rolled over. “What are you bitching about?” He asked with a yawn.

“Fenris and Isabela are together now. Don’t you go messing with them.” She warned him.

“It’s all right sweet thing. We all know how to share.” Isabela told her. 

Anabel let out a small snort. “Well, we know you do. Fenris is the one I’m worried about.” She couldn’t help thinking of Fenris as the vulnerable one in all this. Where was he even? 

She looked up to find Isabela smirking at Carver, and Carver smirking right back. “I’d say Fenris shares just fine, wouldn’t you Puppy?”

Carver gave her a much too pleased with himself grin.

“It’s fine, Hawke.” Came a familiar deep voice from behind her. She turned slowly around. Fenris, bare chested, wearing just his smalls. He must have been behind the door when she opened it.

Anabel just goggled at them for a moment, her eyes going from Fenris, to Isabela, and then to Carver lying there next to Isabela, barely covered by the sheet. She didn’t mean. They hadn’t. 

All three of them? 

Carver smirked at her, and she picked up a pillow and hurled it at his head. “What in the Void is wrong with you?” She shouted. “I work with these people! How am I ever supposed to get that image out of my head? You I expect this of.” She told Isabela. “But you!” She said turning back to Fenris. “I thought you had more sense. Propriety. Something.” 

The three of them. together. In this bed. All night. Doing… 

“Maker’s balls! I will never get these pictures out of my head!” She yelled.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” Isabela commented.

She turned to the pirate. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” 

“She means just because you were insane enough to get married to someone who won’t have sex with you, don’t think everyone else has to stop having fun.” Carver told her.

She opened her mouth to deny it. And then closed it. “We’re having breakfast. If you want any come downstairs.” She finally said, and walked out of the room.

Sebastian looked up when she joined him at the table. Her cheeks were pink. “Were the others awake?”

Her cheeks turned pinker. “Yes. They’ll be down soon.” 

He frowned. “Anabel?”

She groaned and covered her face with her hands. “I walked in on them.”

He tried to hide his smile. “Isabela and Fenris?”

“Isabela and Carver.”

He’d wondered if something like that might happen. Before he could say anything else she added. “And Fenris.” 

She couldn’t even look at him. He was going to be appalled. He would leave her for being related to perverts. 

“Ah.” Was all he said. 

She finally dared a peek at him. He didn’t look appalled. He actually looked as if her were trying not to smile. “That’s it? Just ‘ah’

“Is it walking in on your brother you're upset about or the fact it was the three of them?” He asked evenly.

He was taking this awfully well. She thought about it. “Both?” She said tentatively. 

He was definitely smiling now. “You don’t seem certain.” He commented.

She looked utterly perplexed. “Why aren’t you appalled? Doesn’t the Chantry frown on things like that?”

“Threesomes?” He asked.

Her mouth fell open. “There’s a word for it?”

He did laugh then. 

“Oh fine, make fun of the virgin.” She said, trying not to sulk. 

“They’re consenting adults, Ana.” He pointed out.

She shook her head. “That can’t be the Chantry line.” 

“There isn’t scripture forbidding it actually.” He smiled as the waitress brought a large pot of tea and several cups to the table.

He seemed so blasé about it. She waited until the waitress had left again and asked softly. “Have you?”

“Have I?” He repeated, pouring tea for both of them.

“Ever had one? Been with more than one person? Threesomed?”

His lips twitched. “I’m not certain it’s a verb, but yes.”

“Oh.” She stared down at her drink, uncertain how to proceed. _Did you like it? How does it work? Was it two men or two ladies?_

_Where does everything go?_

“Are you horrified?” Sebastian asked watching her carefully.

“No.” She admitted. No she wasn’t. She was sort of the opposite of horrified.

That was ….a surprise.

And now she had a whole different set of fantasies to think about alone in her bed at night.

Aveline and Merrill arrived, followed almost immediately by Anders and Varric and she could only thank Andraste for the distraction.

 

Sebastian continued to watch her as they ate their meal. Her cheeks were still pink. Poor girl. She’d had a few surprises of a sexual variety this morning, walking in on her brother and Isabela and Fenris. Waking up this morning and thinking she’d done something wrong, that she was the only one who’d wanted more this morning, insisting the blame was hers.

Suddenly the words he’d spoken to her all those months ago that night on the beach popped into his head. 

_The art of seducing someone is to make them think they’re the ones doing the seducing._

That was it. He couldn’t tell her of his lies. His attempts to seduce her, he was certain, would only prove she was as stubborn as he had once accused her of being. 

He had to get her to seduce him. 

It wasn’t an honorable way to behave. It was cowardly even. But infinitely less complicated than explaining that web of lies he’d strung together. 

He had spent years before he joined the chantry convincing women it was their idea, women he didn’t even care about. He loved Anabel, and she loved him. Surely that would make it easier to accomplish.

As if he’d said her name out loud she suddenly looked over at him and smiled and he couldn’t help smiling back. 

How difficult could it be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	25. A Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian's plans for breaking the vow of chastity don't proceed as smoothly as he'd hoped and when and old friend comes to Kirkwall things only get more complicated.

It was late afternoon by the time they walked into Kirkwall and headed through the Docks, towards Lowtown. Anders paused by the statue commemorating the defeat of the Qunari. Someone had scrawled graffiti over it again, and several templar recruits were busy scrubbing it clean. All that you could still make out was “..edith…ucks..Tem…di…” 

Hawke was smirking at it, and Anders couldn’t help smiling. She was still such a child in some ways. “Well as much fun as this little adventure has been, I’m afraid here is where we part ways.” He told them.

“We’ll see you tomorrow night, right?” Hawke said. Sebastian moved behind her as she spoke, placing one hand on her shoulder and the other by her neck, stroking it gently with the backs of his fingers. She leaned into his touch as if she couldn’t help herself.

 _Marvelous_ , thought Anders. One trip to the Deep Roads and Hawke and Sebastian seemed to have gone right back to the constant touching and caressing they’d been doing before they’d announced their engagement. Apparently Vael had once again conveniently forgotten that vow of chastity. 

_Stop it._ He told himself. _Hawke deserves a real marriage and if you were any kind of a friend you’d be happy for her._

He wasn’t though. And he couldn’t seem to take his eyes from the sight of those strong tan fingers brushing against that pale skin.

And then the unexpected happened: Hawke saw him watching them and stiffened under Sebastian’s touch. Sebastian’s hands went still but he didn’t take them away and it was Hawke who moved out of his reach. 

Hawke was resisting Sebastian? That made no sense at all. Anders frowned and then realized she was looking at him expectantly. _Shit_. What had she been saying? “I’m sorry, what’s tomorrow?” He asked.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Solstice Night? Sebastian’s birthday? Celebrations? Food, wine, cakes, unparalleled company?”

“Ah. Right.” Hawke’s Solstice Night celebration had been something he’d looked forward to for years now. Solstice Night is for family and he was her family. He’d come to truly believe it; Hawke had made him believe it. He felt himself scowling again.

Trust Sebastian Vael to come along and steal that away as well. 

He gave himself another mental shake. The prat couldn’t be blamed for the coincidence of having a birthday on the Solstice, and he wasn’t going to let the fact that at least part of the celebration would be for Vael keep him from attending. “I’ll be there.” He told her. He nodded to the others and walked away from them, rounding the corner, only to be stopped by Hawke’s calling his name. He turned expectantly as she came running up after him.

“Did you need something else?” He asked.

“I just wanted to be sure you were all right after everything that happened.” She told him.

He gave her a puzzled frown. “I wasn’t injured. Of course I’m all right.”

She gave him her patented ‘don’t be an idiot’ look. “Not physically all right. The other thing.”

For someone who prided herself on her straightforwardness she was being remarkably cryptic. “What other thing?”

“You know, that whole meeting one of the magisters who turned the Golden City black? Who started the whole mages are evil thing? I wanted to make sure you’re all right with it. Mentally all right with it.” She seemed to think about that and then corrected herself. “Theologically all right.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m suffering from a theological injury?”

She seemed to think about it. “Yeah, maybe a little bit.” 

Anders couldn’t help laughing; it was a ridiculous thought. Sweet, but ridiculous. “I’m fine, Hawke.”

She gave him a dubious look. “You seemed a bit shaky back at the tower.”

He had been, but it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He knew Hawke would never accept that answer, however. “Well I’m fine now.” He lied smoothly. “I’ve had some time to think about it since then. Even if Corypheus’ ramblings are true, it doesn’t prove anything about the Maker or what caused the darkspawn and the blight. For all we know a group of magisters were tricked by a demon and went on a rampage in the Fade. To quote Varric, “weird magic shit’ happened and next thing you know we’ve got Darkspawn and everything that goes along with them. And you were right: even if there is a thread of truth to the story in the Chant, it doesn’t excuse mages being treated the way they are. And it doesn’t change anything about what I’m trying to do.”

Hawke seemed unconvinced. “So that’s it? No questioning your beliefs, nothing learned or revealed by the whole experience? No crisis of faith?”

“No.” He said more emphatically than he truly felt. “Rationally, no. Besides I’m not even sure at this point that I could rightly say I have enough faith to incur a crisis.”

“No?" She asked with an arch of her eyebrow.

He shook his head. “No. Not anymore. It’s just stories. Stories that I stopped believing in a long time ago.” The image of that chantry from his childhood flashed into his mind, and that long forgotten sense of warmth and shelter and peace and safety, and even more surprising a small pang for the loss of it. “No.” He repeated. “I don’t believe anyone hears our prayers anymore, if they ever did. No offense to your husband, but I think it’s time that could be better spent actually trying to fix what’s wrong.”

“Uh huh. That all sounds very convincing, except for one thing.” 

Maker she was stubborn. “And what’s that?” 

“You do know I heard you praying when I was sick last year. Praying rather fervently for a man who’s stopped believing.” She gave him a knowing smile. Downright smug, actually.

He couldn’t help feeling as if he’d been successfully backed into a corner. He hadn’t realized she’d been awake enough to hear that. “Mitigating circumstances.” He told her. “I was obviously desperate enough to fall back on childhood beliefs and superstition.” He said, looking down at her. She gave him an unrepentant grin and he couldn’t help smiling back. “Only you could have driven me to asking for divine intervention, Hawke.”

“You aren’t the first one to tell me that, actually.” Her smile faded and she looked suddenly serious. “I’ve never quite understood Sebastian’s faith,” She confessed. “But I do envy it. It’s absolutely immovable, a great massive boulder of a thing. My own faith’s a bit wobbly on the best of days.” She said with a wry smile. “But this whole thing with Corypheus, though…. It’s made me wonder if it would it be such a bad thing if some of it were true. The chance that it might be makes me…I don’t know. Hopeful.” She looked up at him and he had to fight not to lose himself in those extraordinary eyes. “I mean if that awful part, the magisters and the Golden City turning black and the darkspawn and the rest, all the horrible bits, if that’s based at all on things that actually happened, then maybe the other stuff, the good stuff, that there’s someone who hears our prayers and offers mercy and forgiveness and unconditional love, maybe that’s true as well. Maybe it isn’t all just chaos.” She gave him a look so earnest that it made his heart ache.

Such a child. So willing to open herself up to hurt and disappointment in the hope that she’d find happiness and fulfilment. She’d always been like that and he sometimes wondered if that was what they all saw in her. Loved in her. “Maybe, Hawke.” He finally said, unwilling to be the one who crushed that dream. “Who knows? It does sound like you’re having more of a theological crisis than I am, though.” He teased.

She gave him a rueful smile. “It does a bit, doesn’t it? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get theological and philosophical in the middle of the Docks. You are coming tomorrow, aren’t you? Because if you don’t I will come down and drag your sorry ass up to my place.”

“You should have that engraved on the invitations.” He commented lightly.

She just laughed. “Maybe next year when my planning isn’t interrupted by evil Tevinter magisters bent on taking over the world. So that’s a yes, right?” 

“I wouldn’t miss it.” 

“Good.” She went up on her toes and kissed his cheek, and then turned and ran back around the corner. 

He cast one look after her and then headed in the opposite direction toward the entrance to Lowtown. 

There were the usual unsavory sorts hanging around: dockworkers, sailors from the ships that were in port, and prostitutes looking to make some coin from both. The Docks never changed, he thought, and as if the Universe were trying to prove him wrong, a Templar came up a nearby staircase, walking straight towards him. Anders didn’t speed up or turn and flee, just casually turned down the alley on his right, as if he’d been intending to do so all along. Unfortunately this particular alley, though long and fairly wide, turned out to be a dead end. When he realized it he turned around only to discover that the Templar in question had struck up a conversation with one of the customs officials right at the entrance to it. 

_Fuck_. Now he was stuck here.

The templar suddenly looked past the man he was speaking with and down the alley, right at him. Anders did an about face, walking towards the building at the end, only noticing as got closer that there was a large sunburst symbol carved into the heavy wooden door. It had once been painted, but the yellow had faded to a dull mustard brown that almost blended in to the wood. It wasn’t big enough to be a Chantry, he thought as he reached for the handle to the door. It must be a chapel. There were a few dozen such places scattered around the poorer sections of the city tended to by sisters rather than mothers. He’d lived in Kirkwall for almost half a dozen years and he’d never realized this one was here. He could only hope it was empty at this time of day. Surely one down here would be fairly deserted? He pushed open the door and walked in. 

Perhaps a dozen sets of eyes turned and looked at him as he did. He’d walked into the middle of a service. Shit. “I’m sorry.” He apologized. 

The sister standing by the altar smiled eagerly at him. “Not at all child. Join us.” She was an older woman, tall and thin with white hair, cropped short, but her smile was warm and sincere and welcoming.

 _Shit_. He thought as he forced himself to smile back at her. Now he’d be stuck here for the whole service. All he’d wanted to do was avoid that damned templar for a few minutes. He slid obediently onto the nearest bench and looked around as the sister resumed the Chant. To say it was a humble chapel would be an understatement, but it was spotlessly clean, everything polished to within an inch of its life. There were a handful of candles by the altar, but most of the light came from lamps on the wall. It reminded him of that other Chantry, the one he’d told Varric about. Strange that he should stumble across this one now. 

His thoughts were interrupted when the sister began coughing, a deep hacking cough that went on for far too long, he thought with a frown. One of the women in attendance got up from her bench as soon as it had started and went to a small table in the corner, coming back with a cup of water and handing it to the sister without a word. No one seemed surprised by the action, and he realized these coughing fits must be a regular occurrence. He frowned, looking at her. Was it just a simple cold, or something more? As the sister handed the cup of water back to the woman, Anders recognized her. She was that sister they frequently saw walking through the Docks, offering blessings. He’d wondered where she belonged. It was so rare to see Kirkwall clergy in any place other the Hightown Chantry. She seemed to be one of the few in Kirkwall who actually went out among her flock, and what a flock it was: prostitutes and scurvy sailors, part time laborers, probably most of them part time thieves and smugglers as well. He wondered what offense she’d committed to be stuck down here. Maker knew no one would choose to work in a place like this out of the goodness of their heart, not anyone associated with the Chantry anyway. 

Would they?

The sister resumed the chant, and this time Anders listened to the verse she was singing.

_Maker, my enemies are abundant_  
 _Many are those who rise against me_  
 _But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the Legion,_  
 _Should they set themselves against me._

He tried to remember what book that was from. Trials? He wasn’t certain, but the word Legion summoned up a vision of countless Templars in his head. Well they had definitely set themselves against him, so that part at least seemed apt. As for his faith…

He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told Hawke he didn’t have it any more. Had he ever? 

Yes. His mother had been truly devout, and for a time when he was a child he’d believed as wholeheartedly as she did. He’d loved going to the Chantry when he was small. He’d loved the candles, the music, the sense of peace and wellbeing. He’d loved looked at his mother’s profile as she prayed or sang the responses, her eyes shining as she looked at the altar and the sacred flame that burned there. 

He shifted on the bench, wondering how long his mother’s faith had lasted after the Templars had taken him away, after the Chantry had denied her the protection she needed from his bastard of a father. 

He wondered if his glib remark to Varric about her not lasting long after he’d left was in fact true.

His eyes began to sting and he closed them and he bent his head, willing the tears back suddenly overwhelmed with memories of her, not just in the Chantry, but in the kitchen, laughing at something he’d said as she kneaded the dough for bread, and kneeling in the garden, pulling weeds, smiling in encouragement as she listened to him read out loud from one of the few books they owned. There was a sudden shuffling sound and he opened his eyes to find the service had ended and the few attendees had gotten to their feet and were leaving the chapel. 

The sister was standing in front of him smiling gently. “Your soul seems troubled child. I hope you found a balm for it here.” 

His throat tightened but he was saved from having to answer when she dissolved into another coughing fit. He quickly fetched the cup of and as she drank he sent a careful small pulse of his magic into her. It seemed to be just a mild inflammation of the lungs, nothing more serious, but at her age that could change rapidly. 

“You should get some rest, Sister.” He told her. 

“It’s just a small cough.” She told him, waving his concerns away. “There’s far too much for me to do to get ready for the Solstice service tomorrow. Will you be joining us for that?” She asked hopefully. 

Maker’s Breath how had he gotten into this situation? “I’m afraid have plans with some friends for the evening.” She looked so disappointed that he added. “I’ll try.”

Her whole face lit up. “We’ll see you on the Solstice then. May the Maker’s gaze be upon you.” 

He left quickly, having no intention of returning, but as the door closed he heard her begin to cough again.

Maybe he would go back tomorrow, just to bring her a potion for the cough. He could drop it off before he went to Hawke’s. But that was it. And he certainly wasn’t staying for the service.

 

Orana had just finished pinning up her hair in a thick braided coil at the back of her head when there was a knock at the open door. Anabel turned her head to see Sebastian standing there, wearing a deep blue on blue brocade doublet, with dark trousers, and black boots. “May I come in?”

Beautiful. There just wasn’t another word for him. Men who were beautiful were supposed to be effeminate in some way but he wasn’t. His was an entirely masculine beauty that made her almost ache. “Come in.” She smiled and turned to Orana. “It’s perfect, Orana. Thank you.” 

Orana smiled and dipped a quick curtsy before leaving the room.

“You look wonderful.” She told Sebastian.

“I was about to say the same.” She was wearing one of his favorite dresses, made of iridescent silk in turquoise and emerald, the one that matched her eyes so perfectly. “I’ve always loved this dress, since the first time I saw you in it.”

She frowned trying to remember. “When was that?”

“The state dinner for the Orlesian ambassador.”

“You remember what I was wearing that night?” She couldn’t hide her surprise. He seemed to keep better track of these things than she did. She turned forwards again and opened her jewelry box, reaching for the pendant he’d given her.

“You took my breath away.” She watched in the dressing table mirror as he came closer. “I have a Solstice gift for you.” He informed her. “Close your eyes.”

She did as he asked and felt him move behind her. Something heavy and cold was placed around her neck and she felt his fingers fastening the clasp, and then stroking gently, a feather light touch that made her shiver. He moved his hands to her shoulders. “Yes.” He said, and she could hear the satisfaction in his voice. You can look now.”

She did, and her mouth fell open. It was a heavy gold pendant, circular with an emerald the size of a robin’s egg in the center, and a teardrop shaped pearl suspended from it. The pendant nestled at the hollow of her throat, and the pearly just above her cleavage. “Oh my.” She said faintly. Her hand fluttered up to touch it. It was beautiful, the emerald a deep rich green with just a hint of blue hidden in the depths. 

She turned to look at him, her eyes an almost perfect reflection of the gem. “It’s beautiful.” 

He bent and kissed her gently. “Not nearly as beautiful as you.” Anabel turned to look at her reflection again. She had a small pleased smile curving her lips, and the image flashed in his mind of her wearing just the necklace, with her red hair unbound and wild around. What was it about the sight of that hair neatly pinned up that always made him want to pull it down and dig his hands into it?

 _Soon_. He promised himself.

“It’s your birthday. You aren’t supposed to be giving me presents.”

“I enjoy giving you presents.” He couldn’t help being grateful to his grandfather for being so generous. He could finally shower her with the jewels and baubles he wanted to. 

“I have a present for you as well.” She told him, getting to her feet and crossing to the small chest by the door. She pulled out a carefully wrapped present and returned to hand it to him. “Happy Birthday.” She went up on her toes to press a light kiss on his cheek, but he turned his head at the last minute so that it landed on his mouth and he slid an arm around her keeping her there. She hesitated, but after a moment pressed herself closer. He let his tongue run lightly along her lips, coaxing them open and the hands she’d had resting on the front of his doublet tightened and then she was kissing him back, eagerly meeting each kiss and caress with her own. She made a small eager sound and only then did he pull back.

She blinked at him trying to gather her wits about her again. Maker she’d done it again. He kissed her and she’d practically ravished him. She had to stop doing that. “I’m sorry.” 

He brushed a curl back. “For what.”

“The touching. The kissing. I’m finding you hard to resist lately. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, Ana.” He assured her.

She rested her forehead against his chest. How was this so much easier for him? “I’ll work harder at it.” She said in a determined voice.

He kissed the top of her head, feeling a small flare of triumph, unable to hide his smile. _Soon._ He thought again. 

She straightened up and moved away from him, putting a bit of distance between them. “Open your present.” 

He did as she asked, uncovering a book, beautifully bound in dark leather, but with no title on the front or the spine. He gave her a puzzled look.

“Look inside.” She told him.

He opened it and immediately recognized the writing. _Grandfather_ … It wasn’t a printed book at all, he realized but handwritten sheets, written by his grandfather, commentary on various passages of the chant, and ruminations on the same: his grandfather’s personal thoughts on the Chant, on the Maker, bound together into this volume. “How?”

She was smiling, well pleased by his reaction. “I was trying desperately to think of what I could give you and I remembered your saying that after your grandmother passed away your grandfather had joined the Chantry. I found out which one from Elthina and we both wrote to the reverend mother there asking if he’d left any personal effects. After some finagling back and forth she sent these to us. Brother Plinth helped with having it bound.“

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Finagling?”

“This particular reverend mother puts the Dwarven Merchant’s Guild to shame. We may have donated a series of four stained glass windows to her Chantry. I strongly suspect the papers we sitting around in a box somewhere and that it were only when I expressed interest in them that she became so reluctant to let them go.” She told him wryly. “Do you like it? I thought since you share his Faith that you’d find…I don’t know…guidance or comfort or some such thing, if you could read what he thought about it. I think he would have liked to know that you had them.” 

He ran a finger over the familiar handwriting. “How did you even think of it? First the portrait and now this.”

“Yes, well don’t get too used to the brilliant gifts. I’m completely out of ideas now. You can expect half a dozen pairs of socks next year.” She squealed as he suddenly swept her up in his arms and spun her around. 

“You’re amazing.” He told her. He lowered her to the floor but kept his arms around her, staring at her in wonder. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t let his own bumbling stupidity and selfishness cost him this wonderful woman. He couldn’t ever tell her the falsehoods behind their supposed chaste marriage. “I love you.” He said finally. “More than anything.”

Her eyes seemed to glow as she looked up at him. “I love you too.” She said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Her hand went to her new necklace and she gave him a mischievous grin. “And not just because you give me extravagant gifts. Though that does help.”

Sebastian laughed and pulled her close. 

He’d just bent to kiss her again when someone cleared their throat and they both turned to find Carver and Boy standing in the doorway. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He looked at Anabel. “I was wondering if I could talk to you before the others get here?”

Sebastian let go of Anabel. “I’ll give you two some privacy.” 

“You don’t have to go.” Carver said quickly. “In fact I’d prefer it if you were here. She’s less likely to start throwing things.” He turned back to his sister. “I wanted to ask you something.” 

Anabel gave him a wary look. “This isn’t about the chaste marriage again, is it?” She asked. 

He rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not that. It’s a favor, actually. When I go back to Ansberg tomorrow I wanted to take Boy with me.” 

As he’d suspected she might, she looked absolutely stricken though she immediately tried to hide it. Her eyes went to Boy who let out an apologetic whimper but nudged his head against Carver’s hand. “Oh.” She said in a small voice. “Of course.” She gave a small nod. “Of course.” She repeated. She had to blink rapidly to keep the tears from falling. She forced herself to smile at her brother. “He’s your dog Carver. Of course you can take him. I’ll miss him though. He’s taken good care of me.” Boy came trotting over and when she reached out to scratch between his ears he licked her hand. Anabel laughed softly and bending down rested her head against the dog’s. 

Carver cleared his throat. “Of course he has. That’s what I told him to do.” 

There was the sound of knocking at the door downstairs, and they could hear voices. And Carver glanced at Anabel who still looked suspiciously teary and Maker knew he didn’t want to have to deal with that. "I’ll go down. You two finish getting ready." 

Anabel straightened as he left the room. Boy was looking at her expectantly and she smiled at him. “Go on Boy. Go with Carver.” She said, and Boy gave a happy bark and she watched as he trotted out after Carver. 

Sebastian put a hand on her arm and she looked up at him trying not to cry and failing completely. She rolled her eyes as tears began streaming down her cheeks. “It so stupid to be this upset.” 

Sebastian didn’t say a word, just pulled her into his arms and let her cry.

“I’m completely ridiculous.” She said between sobs. “My brother’s going off to fight darkspawn and I’m perfectly fine. He says he’s taking the dog and I break down.”

“It’s all right.” He stroked her back gently. 

He must think she was insane. She pulled back to try and offer an explanation. “It’s just…Boy’s the last thing from home I still had with me. The last thing from that other life, when we were all together. Now everything will be gone. It’s just me left.” She looked up at him. “Does that make any sense?”

“It’s entirely understandable.” He leaned down and kissed first one eyelid and then the other. “It’s going to feel very different here without him, but if you like we could get another dog.” He thought suddenly about the deerhounds that were native to Starkhaven. He’d had one when he was a boy and they were the perfect dog for a child, a companion and a protector and utterly devoted. He wanted his own child to have such a dog. His and Anabel’s child and the thought filled him with yearning.

_Soon._

Anabel leaned her head against his chest. “Yes, I’d like that. But someday, not just yet.” She sighed, a soft, plaintive exhalation. 

“You’re not alone Ana.” He reached between them taking her left hand in his and raised it to his lips pressing a kiss to the ring she wore. “We have each other. I’m yours and you are mine.” 

She took his other hand and repeated his action, kissing the ring and then opening his hand and leaning into it. “I’m yours and you are mine.” She smiled tremulously up at him. Thank Andraste, or the Maker or whoever had brought them together. “Let me just splash some water on my face and let’s go down to our guests.”

 

Anders still hadn’t turned up by dinner time and Anabel was so annoyed that in spite of her earlier threat she refused to go down and get him. When he hadn’t shown up by the time most of the guests had left she’d begun to be worried.

“He’s fine.” She told Varric with a scowl. “I know he’s fine. He’s just gotten caught up with a patient, or that stupid manifesto, or is trying to make a point about the frivolity of having a party when things are so bad for the mages. I’m not going to play that game with him.” 

“Of course not.” Varric said with a shrug. “So you wouldn’t be interested in taking a stroll down there and telling him that?” 

She didn’t even hesitate. “Give me five minutes to change.” 

 

The lanterns weren’t lit so she knew it wasn’t a patient, but she could see even that there was a dim light coming from inside the clinic a small lamp or single candle.

“He is here. Maker’s balls!” She walked towards the door, bristling with irritation, Varric following close behind. When they’d heard where she was going both Sebastian and Fenris had wanted to accompany them, but Anabel had dissuaded them. If Anders was in one of his moods, having them along wouldn’t help, but now she almost wished she had let them come, just to piss him off. She could throttle him for skipping Solstice Night. They came closer to the door and her steps slowed when she saw one of the doors was off its hinges, just leaning against the door frame. 

_Shit._ She drew her blades, and heard Varric reach for Bianca. The clinic had been raided, but by templars or the carta? Before or after they’d returned from their trip? She turned to Varric, about to give him the count to go in when Anders voice came from inside.

“You’re too late. They’ve caught their mage and gone.” 

Sagging with relief she hurried in, Varric close behind her.

Anders was stretched out in the chair by the desk. The desk itself was empty. He watched as they came closer, his face a mask.

Her relief that he was unharmed was so great that for a moment she didn’t process what he’d said and when she did her heart sank. She shook her head in denial. “No. Sweet Andraste, no.” 

Annalise always ran an abbreviated version of the clinic when they were out of Kirkwall. She wasn’t a powerful mage by anyone’s standards; she could heal only the most superficial of injuries. Any other healing skills came from her knowledge of herbs and potions and poultices. As far as Anabel had ever been able to sense she had no other magical talents at all. She wasn’t a threat to anyone. 

No. “I’ll go to the Gallows.” She said desperately. “I’ll talk to Cullen. Talk to Meredith if I have to. There’s no reason for…”

Anders cut her off. “She was harrowed three days ago.” He didn’t say anything more.

Anabel stared at him, hating that he was making her ask. “Did she…”

“She didn’t survive the demon. Her funeral was this afternoon.” And in one of those odd coincidences it had been held at the chantry he’d literally stumbled into the day before. Apparently Sister Enid, as he’d learned was her name, was one of the few sisters who was willing to hold services for known apostates.

“I’m sorry.” Hawke whispered.

Anders looked at her coldly. “For what? She was a mage. If she wasn’t strong enough to defeat a demon during the Harrowing then she was susceptible to being possessed or dabbling in blood magic, isn’t that what the Chantry and the Templars tell us? I’m sure your husband would agree.” 

“That’s a horrible thing to say.” She told him.

“Ah, but is it untrue?” 

“Of course it’s untrue! You know he wouldn’t have wanted this to happen to Annelise. He was appalled when I told him about the Harrowing. You know he disagrees with way mages are treated.”

“Just like you, you mean?” 

“Yes!” She insisted.

“So why is it neither of you does a damned thing about it?” He shouted suddenly. He stood, pushing back his chair with such force that it was knocked over, and stalked straight at her, stopping just inches in front of her. “After Meredith and the Grand Cleric you are the most powerful person in all of Kirkwall!” He shouted. “Why don’t you use that power, Champion?” 

His skin was running with blue cracks of light and she knew Justice was there, barely contained, even before she looked up at his eyes and saw that unearthly glow. She swallowed hard. She’d never felt him transition that fast and she didn’t want to think what that meant about Justice’s strength or Anders’ lack of strength or if it did in fact mean that they were, as Anders had threatened all those years ago, truly becoming one. 

“What is it I’m supposed to do?” She asked him. “Tell me, what? I protect those I can.” Including you, she thought but didn’t say. “Right now my title is meaningless. I’m working to change that. Change doesn’t happen overnight, and it doesn’t happen from merely wishing it so.”

“You’ve become as dithering as that husband of yours.” He said contemptuously.

“And you’ve become as impatient as that spirit of yours.” She snapped right back. “What was it you told me? He has no concept of time? That he wants everything done now? Well that’s not how this world works, Justice.”

Anders eyes flared blue and when he spoke his voice echoed. “If not for you, she would not have been taken!” It wasn’t Justice’s voice, but a strange combination of both Justice and Anders. “If we had not followed you Annalise would be safe!”

“Easy now, Blondie.” Varric said carefully. 

“Or maybe you all would have been taken.” Anabel shouted at him. “Though probably not, what with all the coin Varric and I shell out to keep that from happening. Don’t you dare fucking blame this on me, either of you.” Her voice broke on the last word, thinking suddenly of Annalise. 

The white-blue light flared brightly in Ander’s eyes and then vanished abruptly. He shook his head as if to clear it and then looked at the two people before him. Hawke was still glaring but her face was twisted oddly as if she were trying not to cry. Varric looked grim but concerned.

The two people he cared for more than anyone, and the two who cared more about him. He’d always accused them of paying people off to keep him safe and neither of them would ever admit to it. You’re right.” He told her. “It’s my fault for leaving the city, and leaving her on her own.” He sounded utterly defeated.

Anabel’s anger vanished instantly. She grabbed his arm as he started to turn away. “That’s not true.” She told him. “You know it isn’t.” She should have made sure the clinic was watched while they were gone. She should have made it known that it wasn’t just Anders under her protection. 

_Why don’t you use that power, Champion?_ She’d never felt the uselessness of the title more.

“You’re not to blame.“ She said truthfully. “Annaliese would be the first one to tell you that.” Annalise had cared about him, taken care of him, loved him as a strange combination of son and saint and aggravating younger brother. Annalise was dead, Anabel thought. Taken by the Templars and dead.

Anders stared down at her, saw her sorrow. _You’ve been a fool about that girl_. How many times had Annalise told him that over the years and he thought of her in the hands of the Templars and took a deep shuddering breath. “She must have been so scared. She must have been terrified.”

Anabel could only nod. “Yes.” 

He dropped to his knees remembering his own Harrowing, remembering the feeling of being toyed with by the spirits and demons there, the way a cat toyed with a mouse, picturing Annelise going through that. Or was even that a lie? Had the templars simply killed her or tortured her for information about the Mage Underground? Justice was roaring his outrage at what had been done and Anders clutched his head in an effort to keep the spirit contained.

Hawke dropped to her knees beside him pulling his hands away from his face, kissing his forehead and sliding her arms around him, stroking his hair and he felt the anger recede, leaving an almost unbearable pain in its wake. He felt himself begin to gasp and panicking he tried to pull away from her.

“No.” She told him firmly, refusing to relax her hold on him. “Let it out. Annalise is worth your tears.” She had tears of her own running down her face and suddenly he was roaring his grief, thinking of Annalise, and Karl, of all of those mages who didn’t survive their Harrowing, all of those who chose tranquility instead of harrowing because even the thought of it was so fucking terrifying that they were willing to give up themselves just to avoid it. He sobbed and screamed and clutched at Hawke, and she held him while he did, murmuring soft words of comfort as Varric silently watched them both.

 

The New Year came and went, winter ended and spring began. Life went on. 

Meredith continued to crack down on the Mage Underground, and Anders seemed to grow even more grim. He spent more and more time alone in his clinic. Occasionally he would disappear for days at a time, refusing to tell Hawke where he had been. Only rarely did he join them at the Hanged Man for Wicked Grace. He hardly came up to the mansion any more, usually only if he were certain that Sebastian wasn’t going to be there. While he seemed to have absolved Hawke of any blame in what had happened to Annalise, Sebastian’s link to the chantry, the nobility and the status quo was too firmly entrenched in his mind for him to simply ignore any longer. 

Anabel had begun meeting regularly with Bran, both for instruction and to plan the best and least disruptive way to have her assume the Viscount’s seat. He sent countless volumes on history, economics, politics and she read everything he gave her, absorbed it like a sponge, taking copious notes. As the months passed Sebastian began sharing in the reading, partly to keep up with her, but it was more than that. He’d begun thinking about retaking Starkhaven again. 

Meredith still had the Kirkwall in an iron grip. There were certainly fewer blood mages roaming the streets but those that did seemed more desperate than before. The Resolutionists seemed to have retreated from Kirkwall, whether because of the Champion’s warning or the knowledge that the Divine was aware of their plans for both Kirkwall and Elthina, no one seemed to be able to say for certain. But the fact that things had been so quiet, that Elthina no longer seemed to in immediate danger left Sebastian regretting his actions more than ever. _Don’t make another rash decision that you’ll regret later_. Elthina’s words seemed to echo almost constantly in his head. And she was unaware of the most reckless of his decisions, the one that had led him to lie to Anabel, to tell her their marriage was a chaste marriage.

To say that he merely regretted that decision was an understatement of almost epic proportions, he thought late one spring evening as he and Anabel sat in the library after dinner. 

Why in the Maker’s name hadn’t he listened to the Grand Cleric when she’d tried to talk him out of the chaste marriage? Here he was seven months after the wedding, five months after their return from the Vimmark Mountains, and despite his early confidence that it would be all too easy to get Anabel to break the vow, nothing had changed. 

He was still caught in a mire entirely of his own making. Married to Anabel under false pretenses, trapped by the various falsehoods he’d told both Anabel and Elthina, afraid to tell either of them the truth, afraid that one of them was going to find out his lies and tell the other, and absolutely terrified that Anabel would never forgive him if she did find out. 

On top of all that, he was twisted into knots by the desperate need to make love to his wife. It seemed to be all he could think of these days, waking, sleeping, day or night. Everything she did, everything she wore, and a surprising number of the things she said, and he immediately thought of sex, sometimes with a quite pronounced physical reaction. It was ridiculous, pathetic and frankly more than a little embarrassing. 

_It’s your own fault_. Sebastian thought angrily to himself as he watched Anabel from across the library. She’d bathed after dinner and then come back down and rejoined him. She was sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace now, combing her hair, looking as tempting as any siren who lured sailors to their doom ever did. 

He’d thought seducing her would be easy now that he’d made up his mind that he wanted to. He’d thought she’d simply give in, that he’d easily manipulate her, make her want him so badly that she’d be the one to break first, so that the responsibility would be entirely on her head. 

He’d be able to have her with no explanation and more importantly, no confession of his lies necessary. 

He thought it would be so simple a thing: he was the Wicked Prince after all, known throughout the Free Marches for his success in that regard. 

What he hadn’t counted on was Anabel’s determination to prove to him that she could keep the vow.

The vow he had forced on her.

The vow that didn’t in fact exist. 

He knew she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. It should have been simple. Something they could blame on the heat of the moment.

 _What_ , the voice of his younger self taunted. _You thought it would be that easy? Oops, we broke our vows, I suppose we’ll just have to forget all about that chaste thing and just live happily ever after now, spending our days and nights humping like bunnies? I think you’ve forgotten just how stubborn that wife of yours is._

Sebastian almost felt guilty about it. She was trying so hard not to be seductive these days. The lingerie she had favored for sleeping seemed to have vanished from her wardrobe. She’d started buttoning every last button on her shirts and jackets and when she wore a dress -- well, he’d never realized how many high necked gowns long sleeved gowns she owned. She’d taken to wearing leggings and Carver’s old shirts again in the evenings, all in an effort to hide herself from him.

To make it easier for him to keep his vow.

The vow that didn’t exist.

The problem of course was that she was just as enticing in Carver’s old shirts, he thought as he watched her from across the room. Sitting here, all he could think of was sliding his hand underneath the hem of it, feeling her warm skin, knowing somehow she wasn’t wearing a breastband beneath it, trying to figure out if he could actually see her nipples through the shirt or if it was just his lurid imagination. 

_It’s entirely your fault_. he thought again, watching as she tried to yank the comb through a knot. She cursed under her breath.

"Let me." He said, getting out of the chair by the desk and crossing to her side. He lowered himself to the ground and sat behind her. He took the comb from her hands and gathered her hair together and realizing something as he did.

"Are you wearing my shirt?"

She gave him an apologetic glance over her shoulder. “Do you know I think I might be? It was in with those shirts of Carver’s I’ve got.”

He didn’t say anything, wondering why he should find the idea of it so arousing, because it was undeniable that he did. 

“I can change out of it if you want.” She offered when he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t truly upset about it, was he?

"No. I like that you’re wearing it." He said, sounding strangely subdued. He began to run the comb through her hair.

She sat there, a little stiffly at first, but as he worked all the tangles free she began to relax. His fingers brushed against her neck as he combed, and she shivered.

He couldn’t keep a small smile from his lips. He’d always found combing a woman’s hair strangely erotic, and combing Anabel’s hair seemed doubly so. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. He put the comb down beside him and ran his fingers of both hands along her scalp and through the damp curls and she stretched into his touch like a cat. His lips curved into a smile and he leaned forward so his mouth was inches from her ear. “You like that.”

The heat of his breath on the sensitive skin made her actually tingle. "Mmm." She agreed. It was just hair, she thought. Was she so lust-addled that even that felt erotic? She turned to look at him and found his face scant inches from hers. It was the simplest thing to lean forward and kiss him. 

She felt him almost shiver, and he responded to the kiss, and then let his lips travel to her throat and it was her turn to shiver. Maker she shouldn’t have kissed him. She stiffened beneath him. “I don’t think…” She started to say.

He cut her off with a kiss. 

She kissed him back for a moment and then pulled away. “We can’t.” She whispered, but she didn’t move out of his arms. 

He ignored her and kissed her again, sliding one hand beneath her shirt. Beneath his shirt, actually.

Sweet Andraste, her skin was so warm. He moved his hand up her back pulling her close, confirming at that there was no breastband, just that velvet soft skin and he shifted her so she was lying half across his lap and began untying the front of the shirt, still kissing her and she wasn’t resisting at all now, not until he moved his mouth to the skin he’d revealed.

She made a small protesting noise and rolled away from him and stayed there, crouched on the floor, her hair wild around her, her eyes huge. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” She stared at him. They were both breathing heavily and there was an almost animalistic gleam in his blue eyes. 

For a moment she was tempted. They could blame it on the heat of the moment and once it was done.

Once it was done he would regret it. 

Regret it and blame himself or her, and he’d certainly resent her for it. 

She shouldn’t have let him kiss her or touch her or even comb her hair but who would have thought it would lead to this? She scrambled to her feet. “I’m sorry.” She whispered again backing away from him, watching him like he was a predator about to attack. Once she reached the door she turned and fled from the room. He heard her footsteps on the stairs.

He was left sitting there, on the floor, throbbing with need. 

Again. 

He heard her bedroom door close and pushed himself to his feet to head up to the privacy of his own bedroom, almost grinding his teeth in frustration. He honestly didn’t think he’d masturbated so much since he’d first discovered how to more than twenty years before. Thirty-two years old and jerking off in his darkened bedroom like an adolescent.

He stalked into his room and slammed the door behind him. 

And she was apologizing to him. Maker, this wasn’t her fault. This ridiculous situation wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own. _It’s entirely your fault._ He told himself yet again as he yanked his trousers open so viciously that one of the buttons went flying across the room.

And for the life of him he didn’t know how to fix it.

 

He returned from his work at the Chantry late the next afternoon to find Anabel with Anders and Fenris and Varric, huddled over some maps that they had spread out on the dining room table. Anabel looked up as he walked into the room giving him a rueful smile. 

Oh, Maker. He knew that smile. She’d undertaken some task or favor or quest that he wasn’t going to like at all. He smiled back at her and walking over pressed a kiss to her cheek. “What’s all this?” He asked, sliding his arms around her. 

She sighed and leaned back against him, looking down at the maps. “Do you remember how when we got back we swore we wouldn’t return to the Deep Roads for at least another three years? I’m afraid it looks like it might be a bit sooner than that.”

His heart gave an uncomfortable stutter. “Ah. And what’s the reason for the trip?” He asked keeping his tone as light as hers. 

“A Grey Warden’s gone missing apparently after following the route our expedition took five years ago. His sister’s asked us to find him.”

He could only stare at her for a moment. “Back to the Primeval Thaig?” Back to the red lyrium. Back to what seemed to have the ability to weaken if not dissolve entirely the seals her father had put on her magic. “Do you think that’s wise?” He asked carefully.

“No, I really don’t. But if the Grey Wardens are poking around there I’d like to know why. And this particular Grey Warden is a friend of Anders. Nathaniel something.” She looked over at the mage and Sebastian did as well. He hadn’t seen the man in weeks. Since the unfortunate death of his helper Anders had avoided him, something he wasn’t altogether unhappy about. He seemed to have aged the last few months. He seemed thinner and more haggard and certainly more grim. “What was the surname, Anders?” Anabel asked.

Anders looked up and saw Sebastian watching him and glowered at him. “Howe.” He said.

Sebastian looked at him in surprise. “Nathaniel Howe?” He repeated just to be certain he had heard the name correctly. 

“Yes.” Anabel confirmed. “Don’t tell me you know him as well.”

Sebastian didn’t answer her. “Tall and thin with dark hair? Pale and a bit taciturn?”

Anders raised an eyebrow. “That’s Nathaniel.” He agreed. 

Sebastian turned to Anabel. “I know him. I’d no idea he’d joined the Wardens, though. He was a good man.” He looked back at Anders. “You and he are friends?” 

Anders was regarding him with suspicion. “I don’t know if that’s true anymore. We haven’t spoken since before I came to Kirkwall. We knew each other but we weren’t close.” He said, wondering why he was lying about it. Perhaps it was the idea that he and Vael had a friend in common unrelated to their association with Hawke. “I wonder if Nathanial ever managed to find a sense of humor?” 

“I think we have to go get him now. A friend to both of you, and I’d like to put his sister’s mind at ease if I can. She had to return to her family in Amaranthine. He’s stationed at the Warden Keep there.” 

Sebastian nodded. “Vigil’s Keep. It was Nathaniel’s family’s home. I’d heard it was confiscated after the civil war in Fereldan. After his father’s actions.” The man’s actions had been despicable but Sebastian had prayed for Nathaniel when he’d heard what had happened. “It must be strange to be living there under the circumstances.” 

“This man is beginning to sound fascinating.” Said Anabel in surprise. “Son of a traitor, devoted brother, friend to prince and mage alike, Grey Warden and Fereldan nobility. I can’t wait to meet him.” 

 

As it turned out, if one had the maps to the area and had been there before, Nathaniel Howe wasn’t at all difficult to find. They all but stumbled across him less than a week later surrounded by perhaps a dozen darkspawn, firing arrow after arrow and managing to keep them at bay. They quickly rushed to his aid. It was Nathaniel who released the arrow that felled the last of them. He turned quickly around to face them, his expression wary.

“Nathaniel Howe?” She asked, knowing the answer already. He was tall, about Anders' height, though shorter than Sebastian or Carver, and thin, more sinew than muscle to his build. His hair was black and longer than either of those gentlemen’s and braided to keep it out of his face. His skin was pale and his nose a bit beaky (though she would be the first to admit that Sebastian’s nose had spoiled her for all others). His eyes were a calm grey even now after what he’d been through. There was something about him that she liked, something that put her instantly at ease.

He frowned when as he looked at her, a penetrating look that seemed to take in every inch of her from her black boots and armor, up to the red hair twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck. He lingered on her eyes, a small frown coming to his face. “You’re the Champion of Kirkwall.” He had a deep raspy voice that was strangely appealing and he made it a statement rather than a question. He seemed about to say more, but he looked past her and his mouth fell open. “Anders?” 

“Making friends as always I see.” Anders replied, but to Hawke’s surprise he was smiling. That was a rare occurrence these days.

Nathaniel Howe wore a half smile as well. “There’s no escaping you I see.”

“I’m special that way.”

Fenris let out a derisive snort.

“That’s one way to put it.” Said Nathaniel dryly. He shook his head. “You’re the last person I expected to see in the Deep Roads.” He told him. 

Sebastian moved to Anabel’s side. Nathaniel’s eyes widened in surprise. “Sebastian?” He looked back at Anders. “I take it back.”

“Nathaniel. I’d no idea you’d joined the Wardens.” The two men shook hands. 

“How long has it been?” Nathaniel asked.

“More than a dozen years. Since just before I joined the chantry. I apologize if that left you in a bit of a lurch.” He told the man.

Nathaniel laughed. “It came as a bit of a surprise to us, but your brother found me another position.

Anabel looked between the two. “You didn’t say Nathaniel worked for you.” 

“Indeed. Nathaniel was my squire for a time.” 

Anabel laughed. “Poor you.” She told Nathaniel. “That had to be a thankless job if even half the stories my husband tells are true.” 

Nathaniel couldn’t help smiling at the sound. “It could be a bit of an adventure, shall we say.” He doubted Sebastian had told her any of the truly scandalous escapades he’d been involved in. He watched as she bent down next to one of the darkspawn corpses. 

“It looks like you met heavy resistance.” She said, looking up at him. 

Maker, she was beautiful. Those eyes: there was something about them. “Yes. The Wardens’ allies told us these roads would be mostly clear. It seems they were wrong.”

Anabel raised an eyebrow. “Who are these allies? Dwarves?”

Nathaniel looked distinctly uncomfortable. “No. Not dwarves. It’s complicated. Let’s just say we live in strange times.” 

Anabel arched an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t happen to be working with a fellow called Stroud would you? The last time I had this cryptic a conversation involving Wardens and darkspawn he was involved."

Nathaniel laughed. “No, I’ve as few dealings with Stroud as possible.” 

“A sound plan. You followed our expedition’s route? Why?”

“You’re expedition went farther into the Deep Roads than anyone thought possible. The First Warden himself ordered this expedition.”

“And he didn’t even invite us to come along, Varric.” Her tone was light but there was a definite chill in her eyes.

“Downright rude, I’d say.” Varric responded. 

“I agree. How did you even know where we’d gone?” She asked Nathaniel.

“An unfortunate dwarf named Bartrand. We weren’t sure if his information was reliable but contacting you or Varric was deemed risky.”

She exchanged a look with Varric. “Apparently we’re too risky.” 

He gave a snort. “Because Bartrand is just the picture of stability. Idiotic.”

“We feared you might return if you learned of our interest in the Thaig.” 

“And here I am. You might want to pass that bit of information onto the First Warden himself. Tell him not to be so shy the next time. I don’t bite. Not unless it’s called for.” 

Nathaniel couldn’t hide his smile and she couldn’t help answering it with one of her own. In spite of the circumstances she liked Nathaniel Howe. And there was something about him…. “If all this was such a secret, why tell us now?”

“You already know of our interest and you did just come to my aid.” He didn’t prevaricate which made her like him even more. 

“Saved your life I’d say.” She told him with a grin that he immediately returned.

“Yes.” He agreed.

She looked around. “Well as much as I’ve missed this place after all these years, is there anything keeping us in these darkspawn infested tunnels? I’m enjoying the conversation but I can’t say I wouldn’t enjoy it more accompanied by a bottle of Orlesian wine and an open sky. Shall we?” She turned and started towards the exit, only to be stopped by Nathaniel’s voice.

“I can’t.”

She sighed. “Yes, I suppose that would have been too easy. Why can’t we?” She asked as she returned to his side.

“I was separated from the rest of my party when these darkspawn attacked. Some of them might still live. I need to go deeper into these tunnels.” 

She simply nodded. “Right. Let’s go rescue your friends.” 

“Shit.” Muttered Varric.

“Where’s your sense of adventure.” Her eyes glinted with humor. “After all, what could poss – “

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Varric warned. 

She was still smiling when she turned to Sebastian with a questioning look. “Crawling through blight infested tunnels to rescue Wardens? This is what I signed up for.” Sebastian said with a smile. 

Anabel went up on her toes and gave him a kiss. “Thank you.” 

Nathaniel shook his head. “You’re quite different from the man I remembered serving.”

“I hope so.” Said Sebastian sincerely. 

She turned to look at Fenris and Anders. Fenris merely inclined his head indicating his willingness to proceed. Anders scowled but after looking at Nathaniel gave her a curt nod.

They continued through the tunnels, running into a dwarf name Temmerin who worked for the Amaranthine Wardens and who had considerately set up explosives along their path to help clear the way. 

“And it’s not even my birthday.” Anabel commented. 

The way was considerably easier and faster with the explosives. 

There was the sound of fighting up ahead and they charged towards it. One Warden remained, fighting perhaps twenty darkspawn. The bodies of other Wardens, distinctive in their blue and silver armor were strewn about the chamber. Anabel heard barking and saw the mabari at his side tearing the throat out of a genlock and she was running towards them screaming her brother’s name even before her brain had even fully processed that it was him. 

As soon as the darkspawn were defeated she flung her arms around him. 

He hugged her tight for a minute and then put her down, shaking his head. He looked at her and then pulled out a none too clean handkerchief and carefully wiped the darkspawn blood from her face. “Coming to my rescue again.” He said with a shake of his head. 

“Well you do keep getting into these scrapes.” Her face softened. “You’re all right?” Boy came over and butted his head against her side, and she scratched behind his ear. 

“Yes. Maker knows how much longer that would have been true.”

Nathaniel was looking back and forth between the two of them. ‘You two know each other?”

The two exchanged a look. “She’s my sister.” Said Carver.

“I wasn’t told.” Nathaniel said. 

“No.” Said Carver. “And I was told not to tell you.”

Nathaniel’s face darkened. 

Anders let out a harsh laugh. “Ah, life with the Wardens. Never let one hand know what the other is doing.”

Both Carver and Nathaniel scowled at him and then all three men tensed. They turned almost as a unit, looking down to the far end of the chamber. “Darkspawn!” Nathaniel called out. 

Four different waves. Three ogres. An emissary. It was brutal. If the explosives hadn’t been set up they might have fared far worse. When it was done they stood there for a moment, weapons ready, waiting for the next wave to came.

Nathaniel was the first to lower his weapon. “For the first time since I’ve been down here I don’t sense any darkspawn. We’ve won.” His relief was clear. 

 

Nathaniel and Carver accompanied them back to Kirkwall. They stopped by the Docks to see what ships might get Carver back to Ansberg and Nathaniel to Ferelden. Nathaniel’s ship would leave in three days. Carver’s was leaving with the tide. 

“No!” Protested Anabel when she heard the news. “Surely you could stay a day or two.”

“I need to get back and report what we found.” When she opened her mouth to argue with him, he cut her off. “Trust me, Little Hawke. It’s important that I get back as soon as I can.” He said giving her a pointed look. 

She stared back at him, and some unspoken communication seemed to pass between them. “All right.” She finally said. They accompanied him to the ship, and then he was gone again. She had to blink away her tears. She saw Nathaniel watching her and gave an embarrassed laugh. “You Warden brothers have no idea what you put your sisters through.” She told him. 

 

It had been Sebastian’s idea to invite Nathaniel to dine with them: an idea he began to regret as the evening progressed. 

He’d seen the way Nathaniel had looked at Anabel when they’d first met. He could tell that the man had found her attractive and Sebastian had enjoyed knowing that, had taken pride in the fact. They’d all of them talked easily as they made their way back, and by the time they’d reached Kirkwall knew Anabel had made another conquest. Nathaniel seemed enchanted by her, and who could blame the man? 

Sebastian had been even prouder when Anabel had come down the stairs at the beginning of the evening wearing a gown of pale green silk that brought out the whiteness of her skin, and the pink of her cheeks, and made her red curls look all the more vivid. She looked beautiful; fresh and young, impossibly delicate, a bride any man would be proud to show off to his friends. She’d taken his breath away and Nathaniel’s as well if the expression on the man’s face was any indication. It had been so long since she’d dressed – not provocatively, that was the wrong word. ‘Revealingly’ made it sounds as if there were something improper in her appearance. There wasn’t. 

But the softly flowing fabric revealed the grace and sensuousness of the body beneath it. The low scoop neck of the gown showed the tops of those perfect breasts, and a hint of shadowed cleavage. The unbound hair, left streaming in curls down her back, seemed to hint at more passionate things. 

It took until they were seated at the dinner table for it to start bothering him. 

She’d been hiding herself from him all these months, trying not to tempt him.

Why would she dress like this for Nathaniel? 

And Nathaniel had definitely appreciated the effort she’d put into her appearance. He barely took his eyes from her while they ate the meal Orana had prepared.

Oh, Sebastian was used to people watching her, indeed it was hard not to. Others looked at her in admiration all the time. But he knew Nathaniel. Liked him. Respected him. And knew him well enough to know when he was truly attracted to a woman. And Anabel was just his type, something Sebastian had forgotten. Small, delicate, utterly feminine. He remembered teasing him when he’d been a boy suggesting he go for something a little more robust. He took another drink of his wine, watching as Nathaniel’s eyes remained fixed on Anabel, as they talked and laughed and flirted.

The flirting wasn’t anything new either. Anabel was almost unaware of how she flirted. It hadn’t bothered him before. Was it that Nathaniel, who had never flirted when Sebastian had known him before was flirting back? And flirting rather expertly, Sebastian thought with a twinge of something that was certainly not jealousy. 

Was it? 

Nathaniel was different from the others. Perhaps that’s what it was. A true gentleman in every sense of the word. Noble born, the oldest son of an Arl. Second in command of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Honorable. Brave. Worthy of Anabel in every way. And he was unmarried. Eligible.

And he couldn’t seem to stop staring at her.

Was it that Anabel seemed to be looking at Nathaniel just as hard as he was looking at her. Deep searching looks that neither seemed able to control, or even attempted to control. Sebastian didn’t know what to make of it, but he did know he wanted it to stop, and stop soon. He refilled his wine glass, unable to keep the frown from his face.

Nathaniel glanced over at him and noticed. “I’m sorry I keep staring at your lovely wife.” He said, turning back and staring again. “It’s strange. You look so familiar to me.” He told her.

Anabel was staring right back. Again. “Do you know, I’ve been thinking the same thing ever since I saw you in the Deep Roads. You’re from Ferelden originally, aren’t you? I spent most of my life there. Perhaps we met at some point.”

“I grew up in Amaranthine.” Nathaniel told her.

“I lived in Amaranthine for a year.” She said excitedly.

“How could someone as lovely as you have lived in Amaranthine for a year without my hearing of you?” Nathaniel said with an easy smile. It was amazing how his whole face changed when he smiled. 

Sebastian had to work to keep the scowl from his face. He took another drink to hide it.

Anabel laughed, that wonderful rich, dirty, promising laugh of hers and Nathaniel’s smile deepened when he heard it. 

Sebastian found his glass was empty and refilled it. It was ridiculous to be jealous. They were probably the two people he trusted most in the world. There was nothing to be jealous of. She was his wife. They’d exchanged vows. 

Not the ones she thought they had, of course...

He put that thought right from his head and tried to concentrate on their conversation, something that had been getting more difficult as the evening progressed. He wondered briefly if he’d drunk too much but dismissed that. He never overindulged, not any more.

“Well I was about nine years old at the time, and usually covered in mud so that may have had something to do with it.” Anabel was saying with a smile, giving the man a glimpse of her dimple.

“I’m sure even covered in mud, your beauty shone through.” Nathaniel’s eyes twinkled as he spoke, softening the stern features.

“You had long since been sent to the Free Marches by that time. Anabel’s barely more than a child.” Sebastian said, interrupting their flirting. 

Anabel raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re not going to tell me it’s my bedtime and try and send me off with a cup of warm milk and a cookie so the grownups can have their alone time, are you?” 

Sebastian stared at her. It was on the tip of his tongue to make a remark about taking her to bed for grownup alone time. They could all three have grownup time together. More images flashed through his brain. _Maker. Where the Void had that come from?_ He didn’t answer her, just took another drink.

Not that she noticed his lack of response. She’d already had turned back to Nathaniel. “We were there for most of 20. Were you living there then?”

Nathaniel shook his head. “No, Sebastian’s right. I was squiring in the Free Marches by that time. For your husband actually.” 

A delighted smile appeared on her face. “But Sebastian said he was in Amaranthine in 20! Wouldn’t you have been with him? Or was this one of the times he ran off on his own?”

Nathaniel looked taken aback. “Was that in 20?” He asked turning to Sebastian.

“Was what in 20?” Asked Sebastian. He’d been wondering what would have happened if Nathaniel had met Anabel when she was unmarried. 

“That time when you decided you wanted to visit Fereldan and we snuck off during a visit to Kirkwall.” He turned back to Anabel. “The whole lot of us, almost a dozen, skipped out of a banquet that was being thrown in Sebastian’s honor and ran off to the Docks. Sebastian found a ship and paid the Captain an obscene amount to take us to Amaranthine. I was terrified my father would hear I was there and find out that we’d so grievously insulted the Viscount. I barely left the tavern, a seedy, rundown place near the Chantry, while Sebastian and the rest of them cut a swathe through the pubs and brothels of the town.”

Anabel started laughing. “The Crown and Lion, right? I was working there.”

Nathaniel gave her a puzzled look. “In 20? You couldn’t have been more than a child then.”

“You aren’t so much older than I am. I was nine at the time.” She looked at him and frowned suddenly. “Wait, how old were you then?”

Nathaniel was staring at her in amazement. “About fifteen or so. No. It can’t be. Nibs?”

Anabel blinked in surprise and tilted her head, looking at him carefully, trying to imagine him as a boy of fifteen. “No!” She exclaimed, sounding absolutely delighted. “Nate.” 

Nathaniel started laughing. “Little Nibs. Look at you. I would never have recognized you but for those eyes.”

“Is it really you?” Anabel exclaimed. “The Nate I knew was such a gangly skinny thing: all arms and legs and nose. You got so big!” 

“And you’ve stayed so small.” He shook his head. “Rescued from the Deep Roads by my old friend Nibs.”

Sebastian was looking between the two of them, his confusion plain on his face. “Nibs?” He asked.

Anabel had a brilliant smile on her face when she looked over at him. “The day I started working the Crown and Lion they asked my name and I was so nervous I started to say Anabel. I realized it halfway through and stopped speaking and somehow they heard it as Nibs. That’s what everyone called me there.” She turned back to Nathaniel with shining eyes. “My old friend Nate.” She said happily. 

“Nibs. I’ll never forget the day your father came in and carried you off. He was your father wasn’t he?”

“Yes that was Da. He’d no idea I’d been working at the tavern.”

“And we had no idea you were a girl. None of us.” He turned to Sebastian, seemingly as excited as Anabel at the discovery. “You should have seen it Sebastian. We all thought she was a little skinny urchin of a boy named Nibs and one day her father storms in picks him up and throws him over his shoulder. The knit cap he always wore falls off and mass of red curly hair falls out and we realize he was a she. It was the talk of the tavern that night.” 

Anabel turned eagerly to Sebastian. “You were at the tavern too? You see! I was right. We must have seen each other all those years ago.” She frowned. “But why don’t I remember you?”

“Sebastian’s hours were very different from yours.” Said Nathaniel in a teasing voice. “He generally didn’t surface until late afternoon.” 

“You were the horrible knight who caroused all night and slept all day!” She exclaimed and Nathaniel burst out laughing at the description and she couldn’t help joining in. “Oh, but we talked about you all the time! Poor Nate was bored to tears working for you.” 

Sebastian had to work to keep a pleasant smile on his face as the two of them laughed merrily at the memory.

The evening only got worse from there. It became a recitation of ‘do you remember?’ and ‘what was the name of’. It hit a new low when it was revealed that it had been Nathaniel who gave her her first taste of chocolate. 

“You’ll always be my hero for that alone.” Anabel informed him. “It was the most amazing experience of my short life.”

“I remember.” said Nathaniel. “You should have seen the expression on her face. It was as if she’d glimpsed the Golden City. Do you still have the same reaction to chocolate these days?”

“I couldn’t say. I don’t really make a habit of looking at myself in the mirror when I eat bonbons.” She turned to Sebastian. “Do I?” She asked.

He thought of the other night when she’d been eating a slice of a chocolate tart Orana had made. It had been one of the most sensuous things he’d ever witnessed: her eyes had been half closed, she’d licked the fork clean between every bite and then trailed her finger through the chocolate left on the plate and put her fingertip between her lips sucking the chocolate off, pulling the finger slowly out. He’d been on the verge of excusing himself for the table to go upstairs but luckily she’d finished it quickly, and he was able to regain some semblance of control. “Yes.” He said. He looked straight at her not bothering to hide the heat in his eyes and her cheeks turned pink.

Nathaniel was smiling. “There you go Nibs. I told you your reaction was extreme.” 

“Well now I’m not sure I'm ever going to be able to eat chocolate in public again.” 

“From Sebastian’s reaction I’d say that might not be a bad Idea.” Nathaniel commented and the pink in her cheeks deepened making Nathaniel laugh out loud.

They finished their meal and moved to the library. Sebastian took one of the chairs, and Anabel and Nathaniel took the sofa. Sebastian watched them talking, catching up, trading stories, reminiscing about the two weeks they’d spent together in Amaranthine while he apparently lay in a drunken stupor just up the stairs from the two of them. He didn’t join in the conversation and they didn’t seem to notice.

It was only after he finished his fifth goblet of wine that he began to picture the two of them together: Nathaniel, all angles and whipcord leanness next to her small soft curves. His dark straight hair next to her fiery curls. His large precise hands on her body. Anabel leaning back, reclining, and Nathaniel moving slowing to cover her body with his own. Nathaniel pulling her down on top of him, gripping her breasts while she moved on top of him, arching her back and throwing back her head as she slid up on down on the length of him. Sebastian felt himself growing hard and squirmed in his chair trying to ease the ache. 

Anabel glanced up at him. “You all right?” She asked with a sweet smile. 

He gave a grunt of assent and she immediately turned back to Nathaniel. She’d tucked her feet beneath her and her body was angled towards Nathaniel. Nathaniel had his arm stretched out along the back of the couch, and was entirely focused on her. If he were to lunge quickly, he could have her stretched out beneath him before she’d even realized his intentions.

Sebastian had done the same to her once. It was a good move, he thought, taking another drink. Her pinned beneath him, her wrists held by her head, her eyes round with surprise and then darkening with desire. He could picture it exactly, and then he realized the hands holding her in his mind weren’t his but Nathaniel’s.

What in Andraste’s name was wrong with him? Months of lusting for Anabel and suddenly all he could do was picture her with another man. He tried to concentrate on what the two of them were saying now.

“It must have been strange to end up in the Wardens but be living at your childhood home.” 

“It was at first.” Nathaniel admitted. “But I’ve adjusted to it. It’s a different sort of home now, but still home.” 

Anabel nodded as if that made perfect sense to her. “Yes, I know what you mean. What was Anders like then?” She leaned forward eagerly, seemingly unaware of the view of her cleavage she offered by doing so.

“Before he and Justice merged you mean?”

“Yes. I think I catch occasional glimpses of that man. Not as much as I used to.” 

Something else that they shared: their concern for the abomination. 

Nathaniel thought about it for a minute. “Charming. Never serious. Always a joke, instead of a straight answer. He never took anything seriously.”

“I can hardly picture that.” She said wistfully.

“He’s changed a great deal from the man I first knew.” Nathanial admitted. “Back then…” He smiled at the memory and shook his head. “When I first met him, he used to irritate the hell out of me. I used to be hard pressed not to haul back and punch him in the face whenever we spoke.”

“Then he hasn’t changed that much.” Said Sebastian. It was surprisingly difficult to articulate the words and he vaguely wondered why. He ignored the annoyed look Anabel was giving him and reached again for the bottle only to find it was empty. “We need more wine.” He pushed himself up and left the room.

Anabel frowned at the doorway. “I’m sorry, Nathaniel. I’m not sure what’s wrong with Sebastian tonight.” She’d certainly never seen him drink as much. He didn’t seem drunk exactly but he had stopped joining in the conversation and was just sitting in his chair watching. If it were anyone but Sebastian she’d almost say he was sulking but Sebastian didn’t sulk. The mere idea of it was ridiculous. 

“Perhaps he’s just tired.” Commented Nathaniel. Was she truly unaware of what was really bothering Sebastian? It didn’t seem possible.

Nathaniel had spent the afternoon with Anders at what he called his clinic in Darktown. They’d talked about her of course, but Anders had been full of questions about Sebastian and what he’d been like when Nathaniel had squired for him. He’d told Nathaniel the story of the chaste marriage and Nathaniel hadn’t believed it. Sebastian Vael as a Chantry priest had been hard enough to believe. Sebastian Vael living with a woman as beautiful as Nibs, married to her but declining to have sex with her? No. He’d dismissed it as jealous fantasy on Anders’ part, because it was plain to see Anders had feelings for her as well. 

However, as the evening had progressed and Sebastian became more taciturn and consumed more wine, he’d begun to think Anders had been telling the truth. He’d flirted a bit and seen Sebastian’s scowl, and thinking of the many girls that Sebastian had stolen away from him with just a smile or a wink, he hadn’t been able to resist giving him a bit of his own back. He hadn’t expected the man’s reaction to be quite so extreme, but that and Nibs’ blush earlier did seem to confirm the truth of the chaste marriage. He knew Sebastian well enough to know that if there had been vows of chastity made he was certainly regretting them now. “Perhaps it’s his work at the Chantry. The Grand Cleric must be feeling the pressure of the situation here in Kirkwall.”

“Perhaps.” She said, knowing that wasn’t it. She turned back to him. “Did you know Justice as well?”

“I did. We used to talk a lot. I liked him. He was a noble spirit. Well, he was Justice wasn’t he? He was a little lost in this world. Nuance was something he just didn’t understand. There was right, and wrong. If there was injustice, it was to be fought. He didn’t understand that there might be reasons to wait, to not act immediately.”

“Anders says he’s different now. That Justice was warped by his anger. Anders says he’s now a spirit of Vengeance.”

“He told me the same when we spoke.” Anders possessed by a spirit of Vengeance. It wasn’t a comforting thought. He’d booked passage to Amaranthine tomorrow but he was considering staying on the ship when it continued to Denerim. Nell Cousland should know about that. He thought of something else that Anders had said and hesitated for a moment before adding. “He said you were the only thing keeping him sane.”

Anabel looked startled. “He said that?” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do anymore. He’s been unhappy with me since I married Sebastian. I think he views it as a betrayal, that I’m supporting the Chantry over the mages. And with everything that’s been happening in Kirkwall lately…” Her voice trailed off and she caught her lower lip between her teeth, worrying it lightly. 

Nathaniel couldn’t help a small smile. She’d had that same habit when he knew her as Nibs. She really didn’t know how Anders felt about her.

He had never thought to see Anders suffering in love, but he’d never thought to see Sebastian suffering either. Two men, both friends of his. Both of them irrevocably changed from what they had been. Both of them in love with the same woman. A man of the Chantry and a mage, and she, the Champion of Kirkwall, at the center of it trying to balance the two sides. Certainly not what he had imagined to be the fate of his friend Nibs. He’d thought about her from time to time, and just assumed she’d have married, a farmer or a tradesman perhaps, and be mother to a handful of children by now. He thought of the skill she’d shown in the Deep Roads and the stories he’d heard of the Champion of Kirkwall. Sitting there beside him she looked more like the beautiful demure maiden in every storybook he’d had as a child than someone who should be battling Qunari or slaying darkspawn or trying to hold back what seemed to be an almost inevitable clash between the Chantry and the mages of the city. 

“Do you think he’s dangerous?” The question broke through his thoughts. She was staring up at him, her worry plain.

He hesitated, which told her more than his answer. “I think he should be watched carefully.”

“I won’t give up on him.” She said fiercely.

It was plain she cared deeply for him, even if it wasn’t in the way Anders wanted her to. “That will do more to keep him safe than anything. The Anders I knew was a good man, in spite of everything. He saved my life on more than one occasion. Don’t let him forget that man.”

“Will you report to the Wardens about him?” 

He made the decision to be honest with her. “Anders is still a Warden and in spite of what he likes to tell himself, it’s not something you can just leave behind. So, yes.” But he would tell Nell, who was still the titular head of the Wardens in Ferelden, though someone else now ran Vigil’s Keep.

She nodded as if it was what she’d expected him to say. “Will they do anything? Try to take him?” She asked in a small voice.

“I don’t know.” Nathaniel admitted. “If he stays as he is? Probably not.” That would be his recommendation anyway. “The wardens have other, more pressing issues now. If things get worse.” His voice trailed off. “Yes, they might.” He marked the worry in her eyes and took her hands in his. “Anders still has friends in the Wardens, people who will watch out for him, should the worst come to pass.”

She smiled gratefully at him. “He’s lucky to have you as a friend.”

“I might say the same of you.” He told her.

And Sebastian chose that moment to walk back in with the bottle of wine. He stopped and stared at the scene. Nathaniel to his credit automatically let go of Anabel’s hands and stood. “I should be off.” 

They walked him to the front door.

“Once again, Champion, thank you for your aid. Because of you, I’ll see my nephew grow up. And thank you for the evening of good food and better company.” He lifted Anabel’s hand to his lips looking into her eyes as he pressed his mouth against her knuckles. 

“I’m happy I could help my oldest friend, Nate.” She said with a twinkle in her eyes. “If your duties bring you back to Kirkwall, promise you’ll come and see us again.”

“With pleasure.” He turns to Sebastian. “You are a lucky man, Vael.” 

Sebastian merely inclined his head in acknowledgment. 

“Good Night, to both of you then.” 

“Good Night, Nathaniel. Stay safe.” Anabel closed the door behind him and turned to face Sebastian. His expression was unchanged and she gave him a worried look. “You’ve been very quiet all evening. Are you feeling all right?” She lifted a hand to touch his face but he pulled away.

“You and Howe seemed to hit it off.” He said. 

She gave a small shrug. “Well you know I’ve got a thing for archers.” She said in a teasing voice. “And he’s got that whole tall dark and handsome tortured, glowering thing going on.” Sebastian would usually smile when she said things like that but his scowl let her know he didn’t find it at all funny tonight. Why on Thedas was he in such a mood, she wondered. “Yes, sort of like what you’re doing right now though I think Nate pulls it off a bit better.“ 

His scowl just deepened. 

“Honestly Sebastian! I was joking.” She moved closer and rested a hand on his chest. “You remember how it works: I say something ridiculous and you smile indulgently at me?” 

She looked young and fresh and ripe. Just ready to be plucked. Nathaniel couldn’t have helped but notice. “He was quite taken with you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.” He moved away from her.

Her hand fell to her side and she blinked at him. “Well, I am hard to resist.” 

“You were flirting with him.” Sebastian said accusingly.

“Is that all?” She actually sounded relieved. 

“Isn’t that enough?” 

He sounded so affronted that she couldn’t help laughing. “This can’t come as a surprise to you. I flirt with a lot of people. Varric. Fenris. Cullen. Isabela. Even Bran, when I’m feeling particularly evil. You knew that when you married me.” She put a hand on his shoulder and he shrugged it off.

“Howe is different.” 

She put her hands on her hips. This was getting ridiculous. “Different in what way?”

Young. Handsome. Admiring. Available. Not trapped by a vow of chastity and a collection of lies. He couldn’t tell her that and to his surprise he heard himself say. “You’re my wife. You shouldn’t be flirting with anyone. You didn’t even object when he kissed you.”

Anabel stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Sebastian, he kissed my hand. People do that all the time.” 

“He lingered.” 

Anabel laughed in disbelief. “Honestly Sebastian, you’re being ridiculous.” She moved to walk past him and he grabbed her by the wrist forcing her to face him. 

“You’re my wife.” He repeated. “I don’t want you seeing him again.” 

One delicate eyebrow arched as she looked at him. “Are you telling me who I can have as a friend? Because no one does that.” Her voice was suddenly cold. 

“I’m your husband.” He told her.

Her eyes flashed with anger. “Yes. You are. Perhaps you should remember that, before you accuse me of inappropriate behavior.” All right maybe she had been flirting with Nate but it had been nice seeing the open admiration in his eyes. Even feeling his lips on her hand. 

When they’d returned from battling Corypheus she’d been so worried Sebastian would keep kissing and caressing her and that she’d give in to him but he hadn’t. Oh, she’d catch him watching her every so often, and if she slipped up and touched him or kissed him he would almost pounce on her and then it was always she who ended up stopping things. She was so worried that it would happen one time, and she wouldn’t stop it. They’d break their vows and he’d never forgive her and she’d lose him. So she’d started touching him less and less, had begun covering herself up in a way she hadn’t since she’d been disguising herself as a boy, hoping desperately to be less of a temptation, as egotistical at that sounded. She almost wished Sebastian would initiate things, just once. But he didn’t. He only ever responded if she made the first move, as if he couldn’t help himself. 

It had been more than seven months since their marriage. She wondered if he was preparing himself to be a brother again. Preparing for the day they both joined the Chantry.

She was dreading it. 

“And perhaps you should remember that you’re my wife before you behave so inappropriately.” 

She could feel her temper rising and she welcomed it if only as a respite from thinking about the whole chaste marriage and joining the Chantry thing. “I behaved inappropriately. Not you, sulking for the majority of the evening?”

His eyes darkened. “I wasn’t sulking.” He told her.

“I beg to differ.” All the frustration of the past few weeks suddenly rushed to the forefront. She had to get away from him before she said something she regretted. Or did something she regretted. Like slamming him up against the wall and shoving her tongue down his throat. She tried to free herself from his grip but he tightened his hold on her. She glared up at him. “Let go of me.” She told him in a low voice. 

He released her wrist and took a step back but when she turned to walk away he suddenly grabbed her and shoved her up against the wall, one hand on her hip and the other pinning her hands above her head. His mouth came down on hers, hard enough to bruise and his tongue thrust inside her mouth, in short exactly what she had been picturing doing to him seconds before and she wondered dimly how he’d been able to read her mind. She answered every thrust with her own, and managed to free her hands. She immediately plunged them into his hair holding his head as she continued to kiss him as roughly as she’d been wanting to for, Maker, months now, biting and sucking and tasting. Sebastian responded just as roughly, and then tore his mouth away and stared at her and for one horrible moment she thought he was going to stop but instead he lunged at her again, tangling one hand in her hair and yanking her head back, hard enough that she let out a small cry of pain which he ignored, burying his face at her throat, licking and nipping and then biting hard enough just where her neck joined her shoulder that she knew it was going to leave a mark, and she found herself not caring in the slightest. His lips travelled to her collarbone and then he suddenly dropped to his knees in front of her, yanking at the shoulder of her dress, baring one breast and then his mouth was there and his teeth, but it felt good, so good. She tilted her head back and arched into his touch, and without taking his mouth from her breast he reached up and tugged at the other sleeve of the dress and she’d actually reached up to help him and when she remembered: remembered they were in the foyer of her house, remembered that he was drunk and angry and jealous.

And remembered that stupid, stupid vow. 

She tried to pull away, and at first he wouldn’t let her. She actually had to grab hold of his hair to pull his head back. “Sebastian. Sebastian, stop.” She yanked hard, and he gave a grunt of pain and looked up at her in confusion. She stepped back and tugged her dress back up.

Anger and frustration flashed in his eyes. “What, am I not the right man? Is it someone else you want? Your “oldest friend Nate”?” He snarled.

She flinched at his words. “I don’t want you doing this out of anger and jealousy. I don’t want you to regret this.” She hesitated and then added. “I don’t want you doing this and later blaming it on being drunk.”

He flushed at her words. She truly though that was why he was… “Are you trying to tell me you don’t want this? Want us?”

She shook her head.

He pushed himself to his feet and moved in front of her putting his hand beneath her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. “You weren’t just crying out at the feel of my teeth on your breast? You aren’t aching for me right now. You don’t want to make love to me?” Some voice of sanity in the back of his head was telling him to stop, that he was going too far but he ignored it. 

She swallowed hard and shook her head. “Not out of anger or jealousy. Not when you’re drunk. Not like this.” She repeated her voice barely more than a whisper. 

“Fine!” He stormed toward the front door. 

“Where are you going?” She called after him. 

“Out.” The door slammed behind him.

“Fine!” She shouted after him.

 

Fenris came down the stairs from Isabela’s room, having left the pirate sated and sleeping. Much to his surprise he spotted Sebastian in a corner emptying the last of a bottle of wine into a goblet, and looking much the worse for wear and the quality of Corff’s wine. He quickly crossed to his side. Sebastian looked blearily up at him. “Fenris, my friend. Join me. Norah!” He called out. “Another bottle.” 

Fenris slipped quietly into the adjacent seat. “What are you doing here? Where’s Hawke?” 

“My wife is no doubt at home dreaming of dark haired archers with glowering good looks.” The end of the sentence was mumbled into the goblet as he took another drink.

The statement was so ludicrous and laden with self-pity that Fenris couldn’t help smiling. Sebastian caught the look. “I know, I know. I’m being ridiculous.” He was well and truly drunk now, even he couldn’t pretend otherwise. The fury he’d felt when he left the house had long since vanished, drowned in this revolting wine. The jealousy of Nathaniel, and the desire for Anabel remained and he’d added an almost crippling regret to them. How was he going to face her again? 

“I am glad you realize it. Hawke loves you Sebastian. She would never betray you with another.” 

“I know. And I knew Nathaniel when he was squired in the Free Marches. He’s an honorable man. He would never dally with a married woman.” 

“And yet you are here drowning your sorrows in wine that tastes like vinegar in a tavern that smells of vomit and stale piss, instead of home with your wife in your Hightown mansion. One wonders at the reason.”

“He kissed her hand. I forbade her from seeing him again.” Sebastian slammed a hand authoritatively on the table.

Fenris snorted. “I imagine that didn’t go over very well.”

“And then I kissed her. I slammed her up against the wall and kissed her. Like a mindless brute. Like some kind of animal.” He glowered at the candle on the table, remembering the taste of her. He turned to look at his friend. “May I make a confession to you Fenris?”

Fenris squirmed uncomfortably. “This is not something more suited to your clerics?” 

Sebastian ignored the question. “I see other men looking at her, admiring her, desiring her and then I look at her and…” His voice trailed off and he took another drink.

“And?” Fenris prompted more by wanting to halt the drinking than from any desire to hear the answer.

“I just want to tear her clothes off and slam into her until she’s screaming my name in pleasure.”

Fenris choked slightly on his wine. “I see. So not a confession for a holy sister then.”

“She’s so beautiful.” Muttered Sebastian into his wine.

“Hawke is among the most beautiful women I know.” Agreed Fenris.

“You should see her in the morning, when she’s just woken up. All sleepy and warm from bed. Or in the evening, in front of the fire. Or naked in the bathtub, water dripping off of the whitest skin and most perfect curves you could possibly imagine.” At Fenris’ surprised look he confessed. “I wasn’t supposed to be looking then.” He drank again and then belched. “But I did.”

Again Fenris had to hide a smile. Sebastian continued to ramble on.

“You should see the nightclothes she wears, all silk and satin and velvet and clinging to hips and breasts and thighs.” He gestured with his hands obviously trying to imitate Hawke’s shape. He knocked his goblet of wine off the table with his gesture. “Oops.” He reached under the table to get it and slipped of his chair.

Fenris hauled him to his feet and deposited him back in his chair. He had never seen the dignified Prince like this, though if anyone could reduce a rational man to this state it would be Hawke. “You poor bastard.” He said, not unkindly. “You really do want her, don’t you?” 

Sebastian groaned and dropped his head on the table. 

“Surely the Grand Cleric would release you from your vow were you to ask?” Fenris asked tentatively.

Sebastian looked bleak. Fenris would never understand the knots he’d tied himself into with his lies about his marriage. “I’ve done awful things Fenris. Lied to those I loved to get what I want. I’m not an honorable man. You all think I make up my stories of what I used to be like. I don’t exaggerate. I don’t want to be that man.” And yet he was heading that way. If Anabel hadn’t had the strength to turn him away...

Fenris was staring at him in astonishment. “Surely you don’t think you would become that way now?” Sebastian’s silence was answer enough. “I do not have much experience with these things, Sebastian, but surely making love to your wife is different from living a life of debauchery.”

“I took a vow. If I’m the one to break this vow… “ If he broke the vow then he’d have to explain everything to her. She’d leave him and who could blame her. ”I’m not worthy to be with her.” He mumbled.

Fenris frowned, trying to follow the prince’s logic. 

Sebastian continued undeterred. “I can’t break this vow. There’s no way.” And Anabel as she had proven tonight was strong willed enough that she would never do it. He was trapped. As trapped as he had been when his parents had deposited him in Kirkwall when he was nineteen years old. Trapped and forced to be a priest. He could almost laugh. Perhaps it was his fate. “What else could I be but a Chantry brother?” He said softly.

“You could be the Prince of Starkhaven.” Fenris said bluntly.

Sebastian stared at him for a moment and then remembered Fenris didn’t know his secrets and his lies. “I prayed on that for years. But I’ve received no answer.” 

“Perhaps this is a decision you need to make for yourself?” Fenris suggested.

He started laughing. Didn’t Fenris realize that was the one thing he shouldn’t be allowed to do under any circumstances? “No, no, I must put my faith in the Maker. He will set my path before me.” He proclaimed loudly. 

“I can't decide if it is certainty you have, or blindness. “ Fenris said cynically.

Sebastian chuckled. “At least you can't decide.” He pushed himself to his feet. “You are a true friend Fenris. But I must return home to my lovely wife and my lonely bed.” 

Fenris watched as the archer stumbled to his feet and almost lose his balance when he walked into the table. “I am headed home myself. Let us walk together.”

He managed to get him up the stairs to Hightown and to Hawke’s mansion, Sebastian becoming increasingly incoherent as they continued. He had to hold him upright as he knocked on Hawke’s door. A few minutes later Hawke herself opened it. 

Her eyes widened in alarm when she saw them both. “Sebastian? Fenris what happened?” 

“He’s all right Hawke. Just too much wine at the Hanged Man.”

Sebastian lifted his head and saw her. “It’s my bride. My lovely bride. My beautiful wife. My beautiful Ana.” He folded her in his arms, and she staggered under the weight of him. 

She was still absolutely furious with him, but she couldn’t start yelling at him when he was like this. “Fenris, could you help me get him upstairs?” 

Together they got him upstairs and stripped him down to shirt and trousers. He collapsed snoring on the bed.

Fenris looked at Hawke who was watching Sebastian with a mixture of amusement and frustration. For the first time he noticed what she was wearing. a robe of scarlet silk, low cut, caught at the waist with a wide embroidered sash. Wrestling Sebastian onto the bed had made it slip open and he caught a glimpse of a matching silk nightgown underneath. Sebastian hadn’t been exaggerating. “He’s had a difficult evening, Hawke. Apparently this chastity is not easy on him.”

“Good to know I’m not the only one then.” Hawke muttered. She sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to put you in the middle of this, Fenris. Thank you for bringing him home.”

“You should post guards at the door, Hawke. Particularly if you are going to answer the door after midnight wearing clothing like that.” He said gesturing toward the front of her robe. 

She looked down and blushed and quickly pulled the robe closed. She couldn’t help laughing. “Prude.” 

“I think being involved with Isabela automatically renders that title invalid. Good Night, Hawke. I’ll see myself out.” He left the room closing the door behind him.

Anabel walked over to Sebastian and sat on the edge of the bed next to him, smoothing her hand over his hair. “What am I to do with you?”

She’d thought he had passed out, but at the sound of her voice he rolled to his back to face her. “I’m sorry I lost my temper, Ana.”

“I know.” She said.

“I’m sorry I mauled you.” 

“You didn’t maul me. You kissed me. Rather forcibly, admittedly. It felt good.” She stroked his hair.

“It’s just, I could see you. I could see you with Nathaniel. See you having a life with him, a family. I could see you in bed with him naked. His hands on you, touching you, taking you. I could see him giving you what I can’t.” _What you won’t, you prat,_ said that voice inside him. 

He looked so miserable. She stroked the side of his face. “My poor prince. I wish I made you happier.”

He looked absolutely stricken and grabbed her hand, clutching it tightly. “No, don’t ever say that. Don’t ever think that. I’m happier here with you than I’ve ever been. I just have to work some things out.”

“We will.” She promised.

He could feel himself getting sleepy, but he didn’t want her to leave him. He reached out an arm and pulled her down beside him, resting his head on her shoulder and pinning her in place with an arm and a leg across her torso, clinging to her tightly. He nuzzled his face against her. “Don’t leave me.” He begged.

She slid her arms around him. “Never.” His arms tightened around her. After a moment she heard a soft snore. “Sebastian?” She asked softly. There was no response. When she tried to pull away to return to her own bed, he merely pulled her closer. Eventually she gave up and let sleep overtake her. 

 

Sebastian woke up with a pounding in his head that he hadn’t experienced for over a decade. He hadn’t missed it at all, he decided. He suddenly froze as he realized he wasn’t alone, that his arms were wrapped around what appeared to be a warm female body. 

_Oh dear Maker no._

He warily opened one eye. Mercifully the curtains were still drawn and to his relief he was in his own bedroom and the soft body in his arms was Anabel. He pulled back his head to look at her. Poor girl. He had her completely enveloped in his arms with one leg firmly pinning her in place. He carefully moved his leg and tried to shift away from her but couldn’t help groaning at the sharp pain that shot through his head. 

Her eyes opened at once. 

He could only stare at her. Was she angry with him? He wouldn’t blame her in the least if she slapped his face, though for the sake of his throbbing head he truly hoped she wouldn’t. Was she even speaking to him?

And she surprised him once again by giving him a loving smile. “How’s the head, sunshine?” She asked in a teasing voice. 

“Awful.” He admitted.

“Mmhmm.” She gave him a knowing look. “I’ve never helped you deal with a hangover before. What’s your preference?”

“My preference?”

“Well, Varric prefers to be ill and get it over with. Aveline takes an ice cold bath and drinks lots of black coffee. Fenris usually just opens another bottle. I drink lots of water, take some elf root powder and eat vast quantities of spicy greasy Rivaini food.” 

He lifted his hand to his head as he processed what she’d said. He’d usually done the same as Fenris and just begun drinking as soon as he could hold a bottle again. The idea was less appealing now. “What does Isabela do?”

“She doesn’t get hangovers.”

He silently cursed Isabela. He lay there for a moment considering his options. “Strangely, a curry sounds rather appealing right now.” 

“That’s my boy.” She said and gently rolled out of bed.

“Anabel.” He called softly. She turned towards him. “I’m sorry about last night.”

She leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “We’ll talk about it after you’re feeling a bit more human. I’ll be back soon. I’ll leave some water and elfroot powder on the nightstand.” 

As she left, he once again thanked the Maker for bringing Anabel Hawke into his life.

 

After he “felt more human” as she had put it they talked about it. Sort of. He apologized for his jealousy, and for drinking too much. She apologized if her flirting had upset him. He apologized for overreacting and for losing his temper. 

Neither of them mentioned what had happened in the entranceway after Nathaniel had left. 

They reached a truce for the rest of the day. Summer seemed to have come early. The day was warm for late spring and they dined together in the garden. Afterwards they spread a blanket on the grass and she lay beside him as he read aloud to her. He walked her upstairs, and kissed her on the forehead and she went into her bedchamber, closing the door behind her.

It was a perfect evening, especially considering how the day had started, she thought as she slipped out of the dress she’d been wearing. Of course they completely avoided talking about the real problem, so why wouldn’t it have been easy? She sighed, reaching at first for one of Carver’s shirts, but changed her mind at the last minute and reaching instead for a short shift, an exquisite Orlesian garment of ivory silk decorated with soft lace and embroidery and delicate pin tucks that reached only to her upper thighs. She slipped it over her head shivering a little at the feel of the cool silk slithering over her skin and looked at herself in the mirror. The fabric was so fine it was almost sheer and after only a second’s hesitation she slipped out of her smalls as well. She stared at her reflection wondering what Sebastian would think if he saw her like this. He wouldn’t of course. He never came into the bedroom after they’d parted ways in the evening, she thought and let out a plaintive sigh. 

She climbed into the bed throwing the cover down to the foot. She wouldn’t need it in this heat, and slipped between the silk sheets. 

She intended to read, but as she lay there she found herself thinking of what had happened last night. Not what had led to it or that they should have discussed it but what they had done, and it had been both of them who had done it, in spite of Sebastian’s belief that he’d behaved like some kind of ravening beast. Unbidden her hand went to the mark he’d left where her neck met her shoulder. She’d kept her braid draped carefully over the spot all day so he wouldn’t see it. He would have spent all evening apologizing and the truth was, she liked it, liked seeing it there.

Liked remembering what he’d been doing to leave it there. She closed her eyes thinking about it. Thinking about how he’d slammed her against the wall. The force with which he’d kissed her. The way he’d pulled her dress down, and the absolute ferocity of the way his mouth had latched onto her breast. She slid one lace strap off of her shoulder and pulled it down running her fingers over the soft skin as it was revealed. The lace trim brushed against her nipple and she shivered. Almost with thinking she brought her hand up and let her fingers trace in a gentle circle. It sent a jolt of pleasure straight to between her thighs. 

Maybe she shouldn’t have stopped him. 

She trailed her hand down her neck remembering how his mouth had felt trailing down. What would he have done if she hadn’t stopped him? Pulled the other strap down. She decided, doing just that and caressing the skin that she revealed. 

What would it feel like if it was Sebastian’s hands? Rougher she decided, tweaking her nipple harder. Yes. If she’d let him last night, if she’d given in, he wouldn’t have been gentle or patient, and the idea of that seemed to excite her more. She could feel the moisture growing between her legs and she slid down further on her pillows and spread her legs apart, moving her hands between them, imagining it was his hands there, sliding through the curls, feeling the growing wetness. Maker she was so wet just from the thought of him touching her. She brushed against that most sensitive part and had to bite her lip to keep from moaning out load.

Normal people couldn’t do this as much as she had been lately. There was obviously something wrong with her. 

_You mean something more than being almost 25 and a virgin?_ A snarky voice inside her head asked.

 _Shut up._ She told it. _I’m busy._

She let her fingers trail through the slickness and then she began to move her finger in a gentle circular motion wondering if it felt different when someone else was touching you. She closed her eyes imagining it was Sebastian’s hand.

She jumped at the sudden knock at the door.

“Anabel? I saw your light was still on. May I come in for a moment?”

 _Shit_. She scrambled to pull the straps of her shift and straighten the sheet, wiping her hands on it to dry it off. “Yes. Of course.” Her voice was throaty. _Shit_. What if he noticed? “Come in.” She said pulling the sheet up so her breasts were covered.

He smiled as he walked to the bed. “I just wanted to thank you again for today. You would have been entirely justified in being angry and treating me like the boor I’d been yesterday evening.” 

“You weren’t being a boor.” 

“I don’t think it’s up for debate, actually.” He frowned looking at her. “You look flushed. You’re not ill?” He reached out and touched her cheek. She was warm but it didn’t feel like a fever.

“No.” She said, not meeting his eye. “It’s just hot. I think the summer’s going to be a brutal one.” 

Was she still upset with him? “I love you, Anabel. Very much. I just wanted to tell you that again.” 

She looked at him and her own face softened. “I love you too.” She put a reassuring hand on his arm. “We’ll figure it out, Sebastian. We’ll figure out how to make it work.” And hopefully she wouldn’t explode from unfulfilled sexual needs before they did. 

He took her hand in both of his, brushing his thumbs gently along the back, and she was still so sensitized from what she’d been doing when he’d knocked that just that light touch seemed to go straight to between her thighs and she drew in a sharp breath. 

Sebastian frowned, confused by the reaction. “You’re certain you’re all right?” 

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak right away. “Just tired.” She said after a moment.

He wasn’t convinced, but he let it go. “I’ll let you sleep then.” He lifted her hand in his, pressing it to his lips and went suddenly still. 

Anabel had her own sweet fragrance, accentuated rather than hidden by the light perfume she favored. 

The fragrance on her hand now was something else entirely, a scent he’d not encountered for years. He inhaled again, drawing it in, musky, heady, but somehow fresh as well and with a sweetness all its own, entirely different and entirely female. It went straight to his groin and his brain tried to desperately to process the reality of what that scent covering her delicate hand meant. 

Lying here in this bed, in that wisp of a pale silk garment, she’d been touching herself, sliding her hands over that velvety skin and between her thigh into the wetness there, touching and caressing herself and making herself so wet that the aroma permeated the skin of her hand. He fought the urge to run his tongue along her fingers to see if there was any trace of it still left there. He was fully aroused, hard as a rock and throbbing against his smalls and trousers. He raised his eyes and looked at her still holding her hand between his. 

Her cheeks were flaming pink now and she’d actually turned her head away. He could see a bite mark that he’d left on her neck the night before and that memory made him throb even harder.

He put her hand gently down on the cover. “Good Night.” He said softly. 

She still didn’t look at him. “Good Night.” 

He left the room in almost a daze, going immediately to his own room, closing his door, and leaning against it, sliding his hand into his trousers, just to make himself more comfortable, he told himself even as he rubbed his hand over the length of himself grasping his hardness and giving a gentle squeeze, making himself moan out loud.

She’d been touching herself. He’d never thought….

It was ridiculous to have not considered that it was something she would be doing, especially when one considered how often he’d been doing the same, but somehow he hadn’t even considered the possibility.

What sort of a selfish, self-centered inconsiderate bastard did that make him?

He leaned back against the door and lifted his hand to his face, inhaling. He could still smell a trace of her on his own hand. 

How aroused must she have been for the scent to have transferred to his hand? How often did she do it? When he was here in his room at night touching himself had she been right next door pleasing herself, thinking of him as he thought of her? 

He straightened suddenly and his hands dropped to his side.

What if she wasn’t thinking of him? What if it was meeting Nathaniel who had inspired this? What if that was what she was picturing? Who she was picturing? The images that had tormented him when he’d been drunk the night before came flooding back, Anabel and Nathaniel, their bodies entwined, his hands on her, sliding between her legs.

No. 

He’d flung open his door, and was out of his bedroom and at her door almost before he realized it. Her light wasn’t on anymore. He hesitated for just a moment, not even certain why he was about to go charging into her bedroom.

And then he heard a soft moan.

He opened the door so forcefully that it slammed against the wall and Anabel gave a gasp and sat up in her bed. “Sebastian?” she said in a completely panicked voice

There was just enough light from the hallway to see her. The front of the shift was unbuttoned, and the strap was off her shoulder revealing one of those perfect pale breasts. She’d kicked the sheet to the bottom of the bed and he could see every inch of those slender white legs. 

He turned and closed the door behind him and stalked towards the bed. 

She scrambled to her knees, groping desperately for the discarded sheet and he grabbed her hands, keeping her from doing so. “No.” He said quietly.

She went absolutely still. “I…” She started to say and he bent and kissed her, just briefly, but hard and firm. 

He rested his forehead against hers, sliding one hand around the back of her neck, suddenly uncertain. “Let me. Please.”

She pulled back her head to look at him. Her eyes were huge and she looked as skittish as a deer about to flee. Her tongue ran quickly over her lips. “Let you?”

“Let me touch you.”

Her heart which had been thumping almost painfully skipped a beat. She must be dreaming. Or hallucinating. Maybe a desire demon had finally slipped through and was tempting her and Maker demons really did know exactly what to tempt you with, didn’t they? “I…” She said again. 

He bent and kissed her again, this time bringing his hand up to cup her exposed breast. He ran his finger over the tip of it and she could feel the roughness of the callous there, and she let out a small cry of pleasure.

“Please.” He murmured against her mouth. Still kissing her he pulled her up towards the head of the bed, sitting down and leaning against the headboard, settling her between his open legs. He moved his mouth to the side of her neck, still caressing her breast. He lightly pinching the nipple and she writhed against him. As she did he slid his other hand to her thigh, gently pushing her legs apart. 

She tensed immediately and tried to close them. “We can’t…” She said feebly. 

“Shhh.” He whispered, his breath hot against her ear. “Let me give you this. Please, Ana.” His hand was feather light on her thigh now, and the combination of the gentleness of the touch and the soft Starkhaven burr at her ear was almost hypnotic. “Let me touch you.” He pushed her leg to one side and the other seemed to fall open almost of its own accord. “Yes.” He cajoled softly. 

She shivered as his hand traveled up her inner thigh and then his fingers delved between her legs and she whimpered, pressing her head back against his chest.

Sebastian closed his eyes, praying for strength. _Blessed Maker_. She was drenched, her curls actually wet with her arousal. He ran his palm over her mound, cupping her, feeling the moist heat radiating from the very core of her. “Anabel.” His voice was a desperate growl at her ear. He ran a long finger between her outer lips and she almost arched off the bed. 

He bit gently at her neck where he'd left the mark before and she went still, though her breathing was ragged and her pulse beneath his mouth was racing. He slid the finger gently back and forth, feeling that skin, like satin, but hot and slick and almost pulsating. “So wet.” He muttered harshly, as his fingers explored every fold of her. 

In spite of the roughness of his words the hand between her thighs was gentle, gentle and precise and sweet Andraste, knowledgeable. He knew exactly how to do this, exactly where to touch and how much pressure to apply and where to stroke and where to swirl and for some reason she’d thought that being touched like this by someone else wouldn’t feel that different, that it would be the same, just with different hands doing the touching, but it wasn’t it was completely different when it was someone else doing it and the knowledge that it was Sebastian’s hand there between her thighs, and Sebastian’s fingers caressing, moving ever closer to that one spot made it made it even more.

He brushed his finger against her clitoris, just a teasing touch and she cried out as the sensation traveled to every nerve in her body. 

He brushed her hair back. “Shhh.” He whispered. “It’s all right.” His finger hovered just above the spot, close enough that she knew it was still there but not touching. She tried to press into his touch but he kept the distance, not touching her where she most wanted to be touched. When he finally did touch her it was a silken slide all around it, coming close but never quite touching that most sensitive spot.

“Please.” She begged.

“Yes.” He told her and she could have sobbed in relief as he finally touched her there, sobbed and cried out and moaned and suddenly all those embarrassing sounds she’d heard coming from rooms in the Hanged Man and the Blooming Rose made perfect sense. All the world seemed focused on one spot between her thighs and one hand touching her there. Everything seemed to be building and blooming outwards. 

“Please.” She said again, not even certain what she was asking for at this point just knowing that the touching couldn’t stop not yet. Yes. That was it. 

“Don’t stop.” She managed to gasp out.

“No. I won’t.” He promised. His other hand came up and caressed her breast and somehow that seemed to intensify the touch between her legs and miraculously it was still building. How could it still be building?

“Sebastian?” She reached her arm behind her needing to feel him and found his neck and curled her hand around the back of it. “Close.” She muttered. She had to be close now because she didn’t think she could stand much more of it.

“Now, Ana.” He whispered at her ear, and he changed the rhythm and the pressure, and she arched and cried out his name as everything tightened and then seemed to explode, an explosion that went on and on leaving her gasping for breath as she collapsed back against him. 

He held her tightly for a moment, feeling her heart racing against his hand and then he quickly eased himself out from behind her, bending down to kiss her gently. “I love you Ana.” He told her and then he was gone from the room leaving her lying there, her harsh breathing the only sound. 

Sebastian barely made it to his room, closing the door and leaning back against it, yanking his trousers and smalls down, grasping himself firmly; barely three strokes and he was coming with a groan that sounded almost like a roar. He stood there for a moment and then slid down the door to the floor, still gasping, hand still on his cock, wondering how in Thedas he was going to fix this. He had to have her. He couldn’t continue like this.

 

Anabel rose early the next morning after tossing and turning half the night and threw on a linen shirt and some light trousers and boots and went down to the kitchen

How was she going to look Sebastian in the face? 

“Is Sebastian up yet, Bodahn?” She asked as she poured herself some coffee.

“Yes Messere. For some hours. He went to the early service at the Chantry.” 

Early service at the Chantry. He hadn’t done that in weeks.

He was probably regretting what they’d done last night. He was probably confessing his sins and being absolved. He’d probably come back with a new resolution to not let what had happened last night ever happen again.

She should feel guilty. She’d never bothered to find out exactly what a vow of chastity entailed, figuring that ‘no touching each other’ should cover it. She was fairly certain that even if they hadn’t broken actually broken the vow last night they’d tangled it into an impressive knot.

She should feel guilty about that. She should be appalled and praying for forgiveness like Sebastian no doubt was right now.

Trouble was, she didn’t and she wasn’t about to ask anyone’s forgiveness.

In fact she was feeling almost the exact opposite.

She set down her mug of coffee. “I’m going out, Bodahn. I’ll be back some time this afternoon.”

She left the house and went straight to Lowtown, through the market and up the stairs, into the Hanged Man, up the stairs past Varric’s suite and straight to Isabela’s room. She didn’t bother knocking just walked right in. Isabela was sprawled out on her bed. 

Anabel shook her shoulder. “Izzy. Izzy wake up.”

Isabela groaned. “What time is it? And if you tell me before noon I’m going to be absolutely livid.”

“It’s way before noon. I need your help.”

Hawke sounded so determined and grim that Isabela rolled over and gave her a searching look. The expression on the girl’s face told her nothing. “What’s happened?” She asked.

Anabel took a deep breath. “I want to seduce my husband.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	26. Isabela's Guide to Seducing Your Husband

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Sebastian seeks guidance at the Chantry for how to tell Anabel everything he's done, Anabel seeks advice from a more worldly source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay on this. If you look at my tumblr you will have heard about my computer woes (I sent it out for repairs over a month ago and Dell seems to be holding it hostage). In order to post something, and because the chapter was getting way too long anyway, I made the decision to split it in two. So here is the first part, and the next should be up in a day or two.

Sebastian started the day determined to put things right in his life.

He’d lain awake for most of the night staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how he’d gotten into such an utter muddle where Anabel Hawke was concerned – not just recently but from the very start. As long as he’d known her there had always been something, some reason, some excuse he’d found to keep from committing to her completely.

First there had been his vows. Then his fear that he’d revert to being the wicked prince and corrupt her, dragging her down with him. And when he’d finally begun to believe that perhaps such behavior wasn’t inevitable, that perhaps the Maker intended them to be together, what had he done? He’d let his own foolish pride, his belief that because he had no income or position he had nothing to offer her, postpone things yet again.

He’d finally come to terms with that, and then Sister Nightingale’s warning had come, and his fear of losing his family for the second time had resulted in his insistence on retaking his vows, and his refusal to give up Anabel had resulted in his mad impulsive offer of a chaste marriage. 

That had started the lies. 

Those were entirely on him: his cowardice, his irrational fears, his complete arrogance in thinking that only he could keep Elthina safe, his worry that he would be unable to resist Anabel if she knew there was no vow of chastity and, Maker forbid, actually put her mind to seduction.

He couldn’t lose her, couldn’t take the chance that she would move on and find someone else, in spite of the fact that he had told her she should countless times, and so he’d lied to her. 

And now those very lies had led to the likelihood of exactly that happening. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

And at every step, every time, Anabel had taken whatever morsel he’d offered her, eagerly, happily, never asking for anything more. 

And every time he’d let her, as if it was his right, as if it was only what he wanted that mattered, only he who was affected by the decision. He’d been so concerned that he’d become the same selfish inconsiderate bastard he’d been when he was young, using people however he would, thinking only of his own needs, and Andraste have mercy on him, he had become just that, only this time it wasn’t strangers he used, but the woman he purported to love.

Even after nearly losing his life in the Deep Roads, even after deciding to toss the vow aside and have a true marriage, what had he done? Taken the coward’s way out and teased and tormented her for months now, hoping that she would be the one to break the vow, so it would be on her head and not his.

No more. He had been a fool about Anabel Hawke for far too long. That was going to change. Now it was time to set it all right, to reveal everything to her, to beg her forgiveness and to offer her whatever she wanted.

To hope that after she had heard everything he had done that what she wanted would still include him.

He rose from his bed as soon as it started to get light and went straight to the Chantry. He would attend the early morning service and confess everything to whichever sister was on duty – not to Elthina, who customarily attended the second service of the day. He had every intention of confessing to her as well, but only after he had told Anabel. He had deceived them both, but it was Anabel who had been more wronged, and it was she who should hear everything first.

 _And of course it’s easier to confess anonymously to a stranger than to someone you know you’ll be disappointing, isn’t it?_ Said that small voice in his head.

 _Yes_ , he admitted freely, but he needed the comfort of that confession, not a confession to an intermediary or a stranger but to Andraste herself, to the Bride of the Maker in the hopes that she would see the sincerity of it, that she would know how truly he regretted and repented what he had done and to hope that with her intervention he wouldn’t lose what he loved most in the world because of his own stupidity and pig-headed shortsightedness. 

Of course it didn’t go as smoothly as all that. The very first person he saw when he entered the Chantry was the Grand Cleric standing up in the chancel waiting for the service to begin.

Perhaps it was a sign, he thought frantically. Perhaps Andraste intended him to confess to Elthina first.

Once his initial panic over the idea had subsided he could see the purpose in it. He could confess to Elthina and then seek her guidance on how best to tell Anabel all he had done. He sat through the service, barely hearing it, able only to think about what he would say, thinking selfishly of how bitterly disappointed both women would be in him. 

When the service finally ended he stood there, his heart pounding uncomfortably, waiting for the Grand Cleric to descend the stairs from the chancel. She was about halfway down when she caught sight of him and smiled gesturing him over.

Sebastian took a deep breath and crossed to her side, but before he could say anything she was already speaking. 

“I was just telling Sister Alma” She said, indicating the woman at her side, “that your presence here this morning is the answer to a prayer. I have a rather delicate task for you to undertake, if you’ll accept it.”

Sebastian had been so fixed on his impending confession that he could only blink at her for a moment. “Of course.” He finally said. “If I can be of service to you I’m more than happy to do so.” The words came out automatically but felt strangely flat.

Elthina seemed not to notice. “We’ve received…well, not complaints precisely, but some concerns have been voiced about one of our smaller chapels down near the Docks.”

“Concerns of what sort?” Sebastian asked.

It was Sister Alma who answered him. “It’s been suggested that the job has become too much for the sister who runs it. We thought that rather than make a formal visitation we could send someone to attend one of the services and give us their opinion on the matter.”

Sebastian frowned. “You wish me to spy on this sister?”

“No.” Elthina immediately denied the accusation. “Simply attend the service and give us your honest impression as to whether or not Sister Enid is still capable of managing the chapel on her own. Running a chapel in such an area was a quite an undertaking even when she was a young woman. We could hardly fault her if she was unequal to the task now that she’s advancing in years.”

“Does the attendance even warrant maintaining a chapel there?” Sebastian asked. It seemed unlikely that those who frequented the area would be devout Andrasteans.

“Sister Enid has always believed so.” Said Elthina. “I’m uncertain myself, but if it should prove true that she’s having difficulties then we’ll decide whether or not the chapel is truly necessary. One thing at a time.” She smiled at Sebastian. “Would you be willing?”

An out of the way chapel headed by a sister he didn’t know, to whom he had no personal connection. A chance to confess without the temptation of omitting things out of the fear he would disappoint whoever heard it. Perhaps that’s where he was being guided. “Of course.” He told them with a smile. “I’ll go right now.”

 

Isabela adjusted the pillows behind her head and leaned back again, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I want to be sure I’ve gotten this right, Kitten: he just charged into the bedroom, grabbed you and diddled you senseless?”

Anabel felt her cheeks grow even hotter, something she wouldn’t have thought was possible after she’d bumbled her way through Isabela’s request the she tell her ‘exactly what happened and don’t leave anything out’. “That is a more succinct way of putting it, yes.”

 _Well what do you know,_ the pirate thought. _Choir boy finally comes through_. “Did he say anything?”

“He said ‘please let me give you this’.” Anabel covered her face with her hands and groaned. “Maker’s tits, I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.”

“Nonsense.” Isabela told her. “It’s very important I know all the details.”

She sounded far too satisfied with herself and Hawke lowered her hands and gave the pirate a suspicious look. “Important for helping me or for something else? Because I’m telling you right now, if this winds up in one of Varric’s novels, I will end you.” She warned her.

Isabela gave her a reproving glance. “A little faith if you please.” 

“Is this about that stupid bet you all have going?” Hawke asked.

Isabela gave a small snort. “As pathetic as you and Sebastian are? I lost that bet months ago. I’m just a giver, that’s all.” She looked thoughtful again. “So, what happened when you saw him this morning?”

Anabel flung herself backwards onto the bed. “Nothing.” She said flatly. “He wasn’t even there. He’d run off to the Chantry, probably to confess and repent and beg forgiveness for being led astray by the wanton heathen he married.” She stared up at the ceiling. “I can’t do this anymore, Izzy.” She said almost absently, thinking once again of how Sebastian’s hands had felt on her bare skin, on her breasts, and between her thighs, of how she’d trembled, arching against him, his breath hot against her cheek as he’d whispered roughly ‘let me’ and ‘yes’ and finally ‘now’. She couldn’t help a small shiver. _Maker_. 

She rolled suddenly over on to her stomach. “No, not can’t.” She corrected. “I won’t do this anymore.”

She sounded as determined as Isabela had ever heard her. “Good for you, Kitten.” She said in an encouraging voice. “It’s about time.”

“Yes, good for me.” Anabel said impatiently. “The problem is I have no idea where to go from here. I’ve never seduced anyone. I don’t even know where to begin. You’ve got to help me.”

Isabela shifted down so she was lying on her side next to Hawke, her head propped up on her hand. “It’s simple: just make yourself irresistible to him.” 

“I don’t know how to do that.” Hawke complained. “And even supposing I could, even supposing I somehow do manage to seduce him and get him to temporarily forget the whole chastity thing, what if he can’t forgive me for it? What if it ruins everything?”

Isabela gave her a catlike smile. “But that’s not what you’re going to do, Kitten.”

Anabel frowned. “But you said…”

“ _You_ aren’t going to break the vow.” Isabela said triumphantly. “You’re going to get _him_ to break the vow.”

Hawke stared blankly at her.

“Don’t you see?” She explained as if she were talking to a child. “If he makes the first move then it won’t be your fault and he can’t blame you for it.”

Anabel opened her mouth to refuse, to say it was a horrible idea, a lie, and certain nothing to base a marriage on, but to her surprise what came out was, “Sweet Andraste, that’s brilliant.” She pushed herself up to sit cross legged.

Could it possibly be that easy? And wasn’t it an utterly dishonest way to get what she wanted? She considered the point and startled herself with how quickly she decided she didn’t care. 

She was definitely headed for the Void, but remembering the feel of Sebastian’s hand moving between her thighs and his hoarse whispers at her ear, she decided she didn’t particularly care about that either, and if it went according to plan at least she wouldn’t be a virgin when she got there. She leaned eagerly forward. “How do I do that?”

 

Anders pushed open the door to the small chapel in the Docks. The early morning service would be over by now and the place was usually deserted until the midday service. He’d mixed up another batch of syrup for Sister Enid’s cough. He was starting to worry about it. Is should have been long gone by now and he had the growing suspicion that it wasn’t merely a cough but was progressing into something else that might not be so easily cured. The syrup he brought her at least soothed the cough enough to let her sleep at night.

Just as the door began to swing closed behind him he noticed the curtain in the corner was drawn, indicating that Sister Enid was hearing confessions, and he quickly turned and caught before it banged shut. He eased it carefully closed and walked as quietly as he could to the small room that served as the sister’s office. He’d just leave the potion and a note and come back later in the day to check on her. As he passed in front of the curtained off area he couldn’t help overhearing some of the softly murmured confession.

“She refused. I was so surprised by that. I couldn’t understand why she would.” 

Whoever was speaking had a Starkhaven accent and immediately Anders’ mind went to Sebastian. 

He shook his head. Maker, he was pathetic, so obsessed with Hawke that he heard a Starkhaven accent and immediately thought it was Vael. He was at the Docks, there were sailors from all over Thedas here, even sailors from Starkhaven, and it was far more likely whoever was confessing was one of them. As if the lofty Prince of Starkhaven would ever make an appearance at a shabby hole in the wall of a chapel down by the Docks. _Pathetic_ , he thought once more, continuing to the office. He’d just reached the door when the man spoke again.

“She said it couldn’t be a chaste marriage because I was no longer a brother. She told me I was being selfish, considering only my own desires, and Maker help me she was right. I denied it of course, insisted we had to get married, that we loved each other too much not do so, and then she surprised me again: she told me if that was the case there was nothing to stop me marrying Anabel in the traditional manner if as I said I truly loved her and truly wanted her to be my wife.”

Anders ducked into the office, pressing himself against the wall as if it was he who had something to hide. It was Vael, not some anonymous Starkhaven sailor. He should go. Go or make his presence known. He shouldn’t just stand here listening, and yet he couldn’t seem to move.

Sebastian continued speaking. “I argued with her. The Grand Cleric of all the Free Marches and I stood there shouting at her. I insisted I wanted to be a brother and Anabel was determined to be a sister. It was an outright lie of course. Anabel had never even considered the idea until I mentioned it and she only agreed because the alternative was not being with each other. I knew that. I knew that and yet I let her accept the offer. I couldn’t lose her, but at the same time I couldn’t risk Elthina’s safety. I refused to back down, and finally Elthina agreed to a compromise; she would marry us, a traditional marriage and if we remained chaste for a year she would let us take our vows and join the Chantry. I was furious. I’d already told Anabel we could be together, that she would be my wife. I couldn’t go back and tell her…” His voice trailed off for a moment. “So I agreed. What else could I do? I went back to Anabel’s house having every intention of telling her exactly what had transpired and that’s when I committed my greatest sin.” He paused again, for long enough that Anders peeked around the door frame make sure the man was still in the makeshift confessional. He was, and eventually he continued.

“I looked straight at her, looked her right in the eye and I lied to her. I told her nothing of the bargain I’d reached with Elthina. I let her believe that Elthina had agreed to my request. I told her that for political reasons no one could know that the marriage was chaste. I knew that if Anabel was aware that there was no vow, we’d never be able to resist each other.” He hesitated again. “No. That’s not right. Maker have mercy, I’m lying again. The truth is I knew that I wouldn’t be able to resist her, but as long as she thought there was a vow stopping us I could pretend that it was true. It would be easier for me and the moment I did it, the moment the words left my mouth I knew I hadn’t changed. I was still the same selfish boy I’d been when I joined the Chantry.” 

That voice with its Starkhaven burr continued on, talking of lies and weakness and a marriage based on deception and falsehoods and Anders stood there, stunned, unable to believe what he was hearing.

He had known Sebastian was hiding something from the moment they had announced their engagement, but this…the whole marriage to Hawke was a lie. Sebastian wasn’t a priest. Hawke wasn’t a sister and starry-eyed romantic fool that she was, she didn’t even know it. She’d been struggling for months to keep vows that didn’t even exist, just so Sebastian bloody Vael could have it all.

She would be devastated. She would never forgive the man this. Sebastian had looked her straight in the face and lied to her, had taken advantage of her trust and her naiveté and her complete faith in him, faith that, as it turned out, had been utterly misplaced. 

And the bastard didn’t even have the guts to confess his sins at the Chantry in Hightown. He’d come skulking down to the Docks where no one would know him. Where that shiny image wouldn’t be tarnished.

“I have to tell her, tell her everything. There’s no question about that is there, Sister? Not if I have any hope of making this a real marriage.” Sebastian was saying. 

There was no response.

“Sister?” Sebastian asked after a moment. Anders heard him get up and heard the curtain being pulled aside, and then in a softer voice heard him repeat gently. “Sister? Sister Enid?”

And then he heard Sister Enid’s voice, sleepy and confused at first and then immediately apologetic. “Oh, dear. Did I doze off? Oh child, I am so sorry.”

“It’s all right, sister.” Sebastian’s voice was kind, and Anders could almost see the self-deprecating smile on his face. 

The bastard.

“But you wished to confess.” Sister Enid began to say.

“Yes.” Said Vael and he sounded almost resigned. “And I’m sure that my confession has been heard. It’s quite all right.”

Anders remained where he was hidden behind the wall, barely listening as Sebastian took his leave, as the door to the small chapel closed behind him. His mind was still reeling. Oh Sebastian’s confession had been heard, all right. There was no doubt about that.

He didn’t even have to do anything, he realized. The prat was going to tell her himself, and when Hawke found out…

When Hawke found out she’d be crushed. That faith she’d always had in the prince would be utterly destroyed. She would never forgive him. And in spite of the fact it was petty and small and selfish of him, in spite of the fact that he knew the pain it would cause her he felt a small thrill of perhaps not pleasure, but certainly satisfaction.

It was a second chance. When it happened he would be there for her, in whatever the way she needed him to be. And perhaps one day…

He felt Justice give a small rumble. **This is wrong. This is a distraction.**

 _No,_ he told the spirit. _It’s the reason we’re doing this. So that someone like her can love someone like me and there will be no one to stop it, no one to tear them apart._

He could sense the spirit’s skepticism and disapproval but he brushed it aside and as he stepped out of the small office to greet Sister Enid he felt lighter than he had in months.

 

“First of all,” Isabela said, “Stop trying to hide yourself.” She was still lounging on the bed but Hawke hadn’t been able to stay still and had started pacing back and forth as much as Isabela’s overcrowded chamber would allow.

Anabel paused and gave the pirate a sheepish look. “You noticed that, did you?” 

Isabela gave a small snort. “The way you’ve been dressing lately makes the Grand Cleric look like a streetwalker.” 

Anabel couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, Maker, Izzy. How on Thedas did I get into such a muddle with this?”

Isabela just shrugged. “You should have jumped him the first time he mentioned the word chaste, or at a hundred other times before that. It would have saved all sorts of time.”

“You’re probably right.” Hawke admitted.

Isabela looked surprised there was even any doubt. “Of course I am. So let him see that delectable body. Show some skin. Show some curves. I’m assuming that your bedtime apparel has been just as unappealing as the clothes you’ve had on during the day?” She asked as if she already knew the answer.

“Leggings and Carver’s old shirts, mostly.” 

Isabela just rolled her eyes. 

“I was trying not to tempt him!” Hawke pointed out.

“Hopeless.” Isabela said, shaking her head. “Well from now on you do the opposite.”

“It can’t be as simple as clothing.” Anabel said in disbelief.

“Oh, that’s just a part of the seduction. The most important part of it, you don’t touch him. At all.” She said emphatically.

Anabel gave her a dubious frown. “So, I’m supposed to seduce him without touching him?”

“Exactly.” Isabela said as if that made any sense at all. “You’ll be constantly just out of reach. Close enough for him to feel the heat of your skin, and smell your perfume but you never touch him and you never, ever make the first move. Wear your skimpiest dresses, your silkiest fabrics, colors that make your skin glow. Perfumed shampoos and scented baths that make him want to bury his face in your skin and your hair, and leave your hair down, or tied loosely back with a ribbon or a scarf if you have to tie it back. Always a dress in the evening. When you eat I want you pretending you’re making love to your food.”

Anabel snorted. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Everything you do should make him think of sex. That includes eating.” At Hawke’s dubious look Isabela tried to think of a different way to put it and her eyes lit up. Pretend everything you eat is chocolate.” She ordered. “You’re irresistible when you eat chocolate.”

“Oh Sweet Andraste.” Anabel said with a roll of her eyes. This again. Maybe she really did need to sit down in front of a mirror and watch herself eat chocolate. “Do you know you’re the third person to tell me that recently?”

“Kitten, the expression on your face when you eat chocolate is one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen.” Isabela insisted. “Just this side of obscene. “I could sell tickets to watch you eat chocolates.”

“I like chocolate.” She sounded defensive even to herself.

“And you like Sebastian. It’s the same principle. So, your sexiest lingerie at night and leave off the robes completely. Blame it on the heat.” She said when Hawke opened her mouth to protest. “But remember, you do not touch him, and as far as possible you avoid his touches.” 

Those light touches were all she had, and if this went horribly wrong she might never have them again. “For how long?” She asked plaintively.

“Two weeks. Until your birthday party.”

Hawke gave her a wary look. “What happens at my birthday party?”

Isabela had an expression on her face that did nothing to reassure her. “We go all out.”

“Right. And what exactly does that mean?”

Isabela gave her a brilliant smile. “A new dress, for one.”

“That’s your big finale? A new dress?” 

“Kitten, this dress will be a dress like nothing you’ve ever worn before, something out of one of Sebastian’s wet dreams.”

For a moment Anabel could only gape at her. “I don’t think so.” She finally managed to get out.

“Well, maybe not a wet dream.” Isabela hastily corrected. “But definitely sexier than the things you usually wear. And the night of your party you get to make up for all the touching you haven’t been doing.” 

“Happy Birthday to me.” Hawke muttered. “So I’m to be a tease then? What’s the purpose of that? It just sounds cruel. To both of us.”

“He can hardly voice any objections to your touching him in the middle of a party, can he? Not without making a scene or making himself look foolish.”

Maferath’s hairy butt cheeks... “So you want me to wear an entirely inappropriate dress and grope Sebastian while all our friends are watching and he can’t do anything about it?” She asked the pirate.

Isabel gave a careless wave of her hand. “We’ve already established that the dress won’t be entirely inappropriate, and hopefully you’ll manage a little more subtlety than just reaching out and grabbing Messere Winky, but basically yes.”

Anabel buried her face in her hands again. “I must be insane to even be considering this.”

“Trust me, Hawke. This is going to work. By the time the party is over all Sebastian will be able to think of is tossing you on the nearest flat surface and having his wicked, wicked way with you. Try for a bed though, or at least a sofa if you can. Much more comfortable.” 

Anabel lowered her hands and took a deep breath. Could she really do this? Could she be that blatantly brazen? Could she follow Isabela’s instructions to the letter, just to have more of what she’d had last night? Was she willing to make an exhibition of herself to have that and more?

She gave a small shiver remembering how it had felt. 

Oh yes. It was barely even a question. She turned to Isabela, with renewed determination. “I should wear my hair up.” She informed the pirate. “He likes taking my hair down when I have it pinned up. He can’t seem to help himself. I should wear it up.” 

Isabela gave her an approving smile and she couldn’t help answering it with one of her own. “When can we go to the dressmaker’s?” 

 

Sebastian walked up the stairs from the Docks and couldn’t help shaking his head. That had not gone to plan. He hadn’t been absolved. He still didn’t have any solution to his dilemma.

And perhaps that was the answer he’d been given.

There was only one way to fix this and it wasn’t to be found in a confession, at least not to a chantry sister, not even to Elthina herself. He had to tell Anabel. Tell her everything, every lie, every deception. Beg her to forgive him, and pray that she would. Maker only knew if that was even possible, but he loved her too much to have their married life, their true married life, not this farce he’d forced them into last autumn, begin with that lie still between them. The only question that remained was when to tell her.

Now, immediately, as soon as he returned to the mansion, was his first thought but almost at once he hesitated.

Her birthday was in less than a fortnight. He’d been planning the party, a true party this time, not the thrown together affair they’d had last year. For so many years she’d ignored her birthday. She deserved a true celebration with her friends and loved ones around her. Let her have that at least, and then a few days after he’d risk everything he had to have what he truly wanted, a real marriage with Anabel Hawke, a life with her that wasn’t founded on lies.

But until then there would be nothing physical between them, he thought resolutely. Nothing like last night certainly, and not even those small kisses and caresses that he’d been teasing her with since their return from Corypheus’ tower. The memory of what had happened between them the night before popped unbidden into his mind: the way she’d felt in his arms, pleading with him not to stop, arching against him when she came. He actually had to stop walking and close his eyes briefly. After a moment he opened them again continued up the stairs. That couldn’t happen again, not until she knew the truth. 

It wasn’t as if he didn’t have years of practice resisting touching Anabel Hawke. How difficult would two more weeks be? 

 

It was late afternoon when he finally returned to the mansion after reporting his findings about the chapel to the Grand Cleric and the meeting that followed that report. When he’d described Sister Enid’s poor health and the fact that she’d fallen asleep while hearing confessions the decision had been made to close the chapel temporarily, so that repairs could be made and the right person could be found to run it while Sister Enid regained her health. She would be moved to the Chantry Infirmary where she could be looked after her properly. Sebastian had also suggested seeking her input in choosing her substitute so she would know that her work at the chapel was valued and it had been noticed and appreciated. With luck the chapel would be open again in two or three weeks. 

Messere Hawke was in the garden, Bodahn informed him with a smile, when he walked in and so that was where he went. He stopped in the doorway, transfixed by the picture she made.

Maker’s Breath she was beautiful. 

She was sitting on the edge of the fountain, trailing her fingers through the water. Her hair was unbound, falling in a riot of curls to her waist, and she wore a simple gown of gauzy white silk, almost entirely unadorned but it draped softly over every slender curve. The gown had a modest v neck, and sleeves to the wrist, and wasn’t particularly form fitting, but there was something about the simplicity of it, the contrast of the demure pure white with the wild red curls tumbling down her back that was almost shocking, and he found himself staring at her. She looked fresh and young and innocent. She looked sensual and completely desirable. 

She took his breath away.

A breeze blew a few curls into her face and as she tucked them back behind her ears, she looked up and saw him and immediately blushed, which he supposed was a natural reaction after the previous night, but she didn’t rise to greet him and that in itself was unusual. For a moment they just looked at each other.

“I didn’t know when you’d be back.” She said finally. _Don’t run and greet him when he gets back._ Isabela had told her. _When you see him stay where you are. For the next two weeks he comes to you._

“I’m sorry.” He said with that gentle smile she loved so much. Maybe it was being told that she couldn’t touch him but suddenly it was all she wanted to do. Maker, was she really still such a child? 

She still made no move to come to him so Sebastian crossed to her, sitting down beside her at the edge of the fountain. “I went to the morning service and then Elthina had some business that seemed to take me from one end of the city to the other. I should have left you a note. It was inconsiderate of me.” He wondered if she was angry at him and realized she probably had every right to be. After what had happened between them she had woken up and he’d been gone. And now she probably thought he regretted it.

She smiled suddenly, giving him a glimpse of her dimple. “You look awfully worried. Did you think I was angry with you?” She teased.

Was there anything in the world as lovely as her smile? “It had just occurred to me that you would be well within your rights if you were.”

She leaned back on her hands. “Oh, given the way I go running off and the trouble I manage to find, I’m not certain that’s true, but in any case I’m not.” She turned back to the fountain, dipping her fingers in the water once again. 

She hadn’t mentioned what had happened last night so neither did he. “You look very pretty this evening. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wearing all white.” He commented.

She looked over at him with a small frown that he didn’t quite understand and then glanced down at her dress. “Do you know, I don’t think I ever have before.” She said smoothing her hand over the skirt. 

They were talking about dresses. She’d thought he’d at least make an attempt to talk about last night, but apparently not. He couldn’t expect her to bring it up, could he? _Glad you like the dress now about that mind blowing orgasm you gave me last night…._

Oh yeah, the seduction was off to a rollicking start. Well, since he wasn’t bringing it up and she couldn’t think how to, polite conversation it was.

“I’m sure it’s a horrible idea, and that I’ll ruin it before the evenings through, but it seemed wonderfully cool and summery. It’s such a lovely evening I thought we’d eat out here.” 

And not only had she continued the dress conversation she’d move it on to the scintillating topic of the weather.

Leandra would have been so proud. 

She was nervous, he realized. It was only to be expected. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.” He assured her and started to bend to kiss her cheek, remembering too late his vow to refrain from touching her until he’d told her the truth of things. But before he could straighten up again she’d risen and moved away to the small wrought iron table that held a tray with a bottle and two goblets. 

“Can I get you some wine?” She asked over her shoulder. 

She’d moved so swiftly that If Sebastian had actually tried to kiss her she wouldn’t have been there and he suspected it had been deliberate: she hadn’t wanted him to kiss her. He should have been relieved, it would make it that much easier to avoid touching her for the next two weeks. He’d been worried that after last night she’d expect those touches but thus far almost the opposite seemed true. That was better surely. If they didn’t touch the temptation would be less. “Please.” He said rising to his feet and moving to join her. 

She turned to him, holding the goblet up with both hands. The action pressed her breasts together and made the gauzy silk of her dress gap slightly, giving him a brief glimpse of those perfect breasts. The memory of how they’d felt in his hands, how the nipples had hardened under his touch came rushing back and he swallowed hard before reaching for the cup. As he took the goblet from her hands a gentle breeze blew her hair into her face and brought with it the scent she always wore, of freesias and spring flowers and just a hint of sandalwood, and that brought more memories: of holding her barely clothed between his legs and burying his face in her hair as she writhed against him, of her pleading with him and crying out when she reached her pleasure. Before he was even able to fully process it she’d moved gracefully away again, to pour herself a glass.

 _Maker’s Breath man, have a little self-control_ , Sebastian thought taking a drink from his own glass. He would never survive the next two weeks if every time she came near him he was going to react like that. He could only give thanks that she was unaware of what she was doing, of the effect that she had, and he thought as he had so many times before, that if Anabel were ever to put her mind to seduction she would be a fearsome thing indeed. 

To his dismay such incidents continued all evening, before, during and after their dinner. She would come close enough that he could feel her warmth, smell her scent, would lean forward, or reach so that he caught glimpses of the perfect white skin of her neck, or her wrist or her chest, but she never touched him, or kissed him or did anything untoward in the slightest. Her nervousness had passed and she seemed completely at ease and completely unaware that every movement she made from the way she drank her wine to the way she ate the food Orana had prepared was driving him to distraction.

She couldn’t be doing it intentionally, he thought for perhaps the tenth time as they sat there, she finishing her dessert, a sweet vanilla custard topped with cherries soaked in liqueur, and he enjoying a glass of Antivan brandy. It was dark out now, but Bodahn and Sandal had lit the lanterns that hung at intervals throughout the garden, and they gave a soft glow of light. The night was quiet, the only sounds the water splashing in the fountain, and the insects and if you listened carefully the dim sounds of Hightown from over the garden wall.

“It was the perfect evening to eat outdoors.” He told her. He seemed to be unable to take his eyes from her.

She looked up at him, licking the spoon free of custard and gave him an easy smile. “Yes.” She agreed. “It was.” She’d finished her serving and as he continued to watch her, she reached out and stole one of the soaked cherries from the small bowl that had been left at the table, quickly popping it in her mouth, laughing when some of the syrup dripped on her lower lip and chin. She caught the drip with her finger and licked it off. A drop of the dark red juice remained just above her lip and it took all his willpower to not lean over and… 

She saw his expression and laughed. “You’re wishing you’d married someone with better table manners, aren’t you?” 

He forced himself to smile. “Not at all. But you’ve still a bit of juice just there.” He gestured to his own upper lip, and watched in dismay as, instead of using her napkin to clean it off, she ran her small pink tongue carefully over the spot.

“Did I get it all?” She asked innocently. 

She hadn’t. “Here.” He said abruptly, picking up his own napkin and leaning forward to wipe the syrup off. Before he could she’d taken the napkin from his hand and wiped the spot away herself. She handed it back to him and then sat back in her chair, running her finger along her plate to get a last bit of custard left there and carefully sucking it clean. 

His eyes followed every movement. “What did you do today?” He asked to distract himself.

She gave him a brilliant smile, seemingly unaware of the effect of her actions were having on him. “Isabela and I went to the dressmakers. I thought I’d indulge myself and get a new gown for my party.”

She seemed so pleased that he couldn’t help smiling back. “That sounds like a fine idea.”

She took a sip of her wine and then sat back, the glass still in her hand and trailed a finger in a slow circle around the rim of the glass. “It’s different from anything I’ve worn before. I’m a little nervous about it actually.” That was an understatement. She couldn’t believe she was actually going to be brazen enough to wear it even in front of just her friends. She couldn’t believe she’d actually listened to Isabela’s advice on dresses. 

To be fair though, Isabela’s advice on other subjects was turning out to be rather sound thus far. Sebastian’s eyes had been following her every movement, and when she’d been eating he’d been positively squirming in his chair. 

Isabela had been right about that. Perhaps she was right about the gown as well. 

“I’m sure it will be beautiful.” Sebastian said only half listening mesmerized by the movement of her hand on her glass. He wondered what those slender fingers would feel like stroking him like that, lightly and then with increasing pressure and he had to shift in his seat to ease the ache. Maker what was wrong with him? Having touched and caressed her, having had her come apart in his arms it seemed to be all he could think of. Every movement she made seemed calculated to tease and torment. If he didn’t know better he’d say she was doing it on purpose but that couldn’t be the case. She wasn’t touching him at all, indeed she seemed to be going out of her way to avoid touching him, and she wasn’t experienced or sophisticated enough in matters of a sexual nature to know just how very tempting that made her. No, she must be doing it because after what had happened last night she was worried about those bloody vows she thought they’d made. It only increased his guilt about it. 

Her head was tilted to one side and she had a small frown on her face as she stared at the table.

“Is everything all right?” He asked softly. That must be what she was worrying about. 

The frown deepened. “I’m trying to decide if want some more of the custard.” She stared at the dish for a few seconds longer. “No.” She announced. “Just a few more of the cherries.”

He couldn’t help a small laugh as he pushed the dish over to her and then watched as she picked up another cherry with her fingers. Just short of her mouth it slipped from her fingers and she clapped her hand to her chest in an effort to keep it from staining the white gown and only ended up smashing it on her chest.

“Shit!” She exclaimed in disbelief. She pulled her hand back. The crushed cherry slid into her cleavage, leaving a trail of juice in its wake. “Shit!” She repeated, as she dipped her hand down the front of her dress, scooping out the bits of fruit.

Sebastian actually had to grip the arm of his chair to keep from lunging across the table and licking her clean. 

Anabel was looking in dismay at the cherry stain on the white silk of her gown. “This! This is why I don’t wear white dresses!” She said in an exasperated voice. “Water. I need water.” She grabbed his napkin from in front of him and ran to the fountain, and he got to his feet and followed her. She’d dipped the napkin in the water and blotting frantically at the dress, and between her breasts. Water saturated the fabric and he watched as it went from gauzy to sheer and quickly grabbed her wrist. 

She looked up at him in surprise.

“Perhaps it would be easier if you changed out of the dress first.” He suggested carefully.

“Oh. Yes. That would make more sense.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “What would I do without you?” She didn’t wait for an answer, just ran swiftly back into the mansion.

He stared after her for a moment and then returned to the table, refilled his glass and drank the brandy down in one go.

Two weeks suddenly felt like a very long time indeed. 

Anabel peeked around the curtain in the dining room, a smile curving her lips as she watched Sebastian chug his brandy. She turned and headed for the stairs, feeling rather clever for asking Orana to make something messy with cherries for dessert. She started whistling halfway up the stairs.

This was actually kind of fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	27. I'll Tell You My Sins and You Can Sharpen Your Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian ends up confessing his lies to Anabel slightly sooner than he had intended to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several people have messaged me saying the song "Take Me To Church" by Hozier reminds them of Sebastian, and I have to agree, so the chapter title is taken from the lyrics.

The night of the party finally arrived and Sebastian offered a prayer of thanks as he got ready. He could say without hesitation that it had been the most difficult fortnight of his life.

He’d managed to keep his promise to not touch Anabel, but several times it had been a close thing indeed, and it was starting to wear on him; lately everything she did seemed calculated to arouse him, which was ridiculous of course, because she hadn’t touched him either, not intentionally.

Not at all.

But every action, every movement, every outfit, every hairstyle even, seemed designed to tempt and arouse him, to draw his attention to her in some way: trousers that perfectly hugged her bottom, dresses in brilliant jewel like colors that made her skin almost glow, dresses that that would slip carelessly off her shoulder and as he watched she would absently put the sleeve back in place, her slender fingers seeming to linger on her velvet smooth skin as if to remind him of its warmth and softness. Bodices with buttons that mysteriously became unfastened, or laces that loosened, giving him countless glimpses of soft pale skin and curves. 

And while she wasn’t touching him she certainly wasn’t holding back touching anyone else. Everyone seemed to be the recipient of those light touches and hugs and careless loving kisses. Everyone but him of course.

Stop it. It doesn’t mean anything. She’s an affectionate soul, physically as well as emotionally. She always has been. She’s always flirted. It’s nothing inappropriate. Nobody else seemed to pay it any attention at all or be treating it as anything out of the ordinary. 

Nobody but Anders, that was. 

Stop it. Sebastian told himself more emphatically. Very likely you’re imagining that as well. 

It was true that of late Anders had been in a much better humor. Impassioned speeches about the rights of mages and diatribes against Meredith and the Templars and the chantry had all but ceased. He was all charm and quips and humorous jests these days, and he and Anabel had been trading jibes and jokes with all the familiarity of a long established couple, a taunting reminder to Sebastian of the three years they’d been together before he’d joined Anabel’s companions. Unlike the others who took Anabel’s affection in stride, whenever Anabel bestowed one of her hugs on the mage he would look over her head at Sebastian with an expression that seemed oddly triumphant. He seemed to be constantly turning up at the mansion when Sebastian was out, though Sebastian had no idea how the man would even know that he wasn’t there. He’d lost track of the number of times he’d walked in to find them laughing together, or engaging in friendly bickering. Anders never stayed for long once he’d returned and the man always left with a strange smile that managed to be both smug and contemptuous. 

Anabel seemed not to notice it. When Sebastian had asked her if she knew the reason for his change in mood and she’d shaken her head. “I’ve no idea. Maybe it was seeing Nate again? Whatever it is, it’s nice having the old Anders back.” She told him happily. “I’ve missed my friend. Perhaps he’s finally come to terms our marriage, do you think?” 

The look she gave him was so hopeful that Sebastian could only smile and reply. “Perhaps so.”

He knew that wasn’t the case. The looks the man gave him when Anabel wasn’t looking were seemed even more resentful and hostile than they had been previously. At some point he suspected he and Anders were going to have some sort of confrontation, and he almost welcomed it. But not now, not until things were resolved between Anabel and him. In the meantime he would simply have to accept the affection, the physical affection that she showered on the mage, on the mage and almost everyone else they encountered in Kirkwall.

Was it that simple? Was it simply that he wasn’t included that made it so difficult for him to see? Everyone from the merchants at the market, to the nobles in Hightown, even King Alistair and Ban Teagan when they had arrived unannounced in Kirkwall the previous week. Two more men she had captivated. He couldn’t help smiling at that memory, though.

He’d been so proud of her that evening. Not only had she looked almost startlingly beautiful, first in new set of armor when they’d gone to the Keep – girlie armor she’d jokingly called it, a pale blue, elaborately decorated and tooled, armor that managed to be functional and yet completely feminine, and then in a pale pink velvet gown, that made her look almost ethereal, impossibly fragile, like a princess in a children’s tale: that was how Teagan and Alistair had treated her, as carefully they might a porcelain figurine. However when the conversation had turned to the reason for Alistair’s travels in the Free Marches, the growing unrest in Orlais and the effect that would have on Ferelden and the Free Marches both, she’d immediately grasped the situation and her insight and questions and comments had been nothing short of brilliant. Teagan and Alistair had been astonished, and then fascinated and the preconceptions they’d formed about her had vanished completely and they’d begun to treat her as what she was – and intelligent capable leader and the most influential person in Kirkwall after Meredith and Elthina. Sebastian had been sorely tempted to run to the Keep and drag Seneschal Bran back with him to show him what all the months of study and lectures had wrought, to show him how, at the age of twenty-five, two years after the Viscount had wanted to make her his heir, that she was more than capable and more than ready to take on the job. Instead he’d watched as she and Alistair finished their serious discussion and began joking together once more.

Bann Teagan had noticed Sebastian watching them, and had offered congratulations on his choice of wife, remarking how rare it was to have the combination of wit, intelligence and beauty. 

Sebastian’s eyes had gone immediately back to Anabel. “Yes. She has all of those things and a truly kind and generous heart as well.” Hopefully kind and generous enough to be able to forgive him when he told her of his lies. Realizing Teagan was still watching him he'd smiled. “Are all Fereldan ladies so remarkable?” 

“Sadly not all.” Teagan had answered lightly. “But I’ve been lucky enough to know three such women. In addition to the Champion, of course.” He quickly added.

“The Hero of Fereldan is one of those, I assume?” Sebastian inquired, wondering who the other two might be.

Teagan gave him a smile that plainly showed his affection for his queen. “Yes, Nell certainly qualifies as one. And then my sister, Rowan who was Maric’s queen and Cailan’s mother. She was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, and indeed most other places as well.” 

“And the third?” Sebastian had asked.

A wistful look passed quickly over the Bann’s face. “The first woman I loved, though the time we had together was brief.” He’d said and quickly changed the subject. “You’re a very lucky man to have found the Champion and have made her your own.” 

Sebastian turned to look at his wife again. _Not yet_ , he thought, _but Maker willing, soon,_ and a wave of desire had swept over him at the thought.

Anabel had chosen that moment to glance over at him and had seen the expression in his eyes. Her cheeks had turned pink and she quickly turned back to King Alistair, but not before Sebastian had seen a flash of the same desire in her eyes. 

It would be all right, he promised himself as he fastened the last button on his dark green doublet. He just needed to make it through tonight, he thought as he headed down the stairs to make certain everything was ready for their guests. After tonight he could tell her everything, and they could start anew. 

As he headed into the dining room he heard Anabel’s voice giving some last minute instructions, and he couldn’t help smiling, even as he shook his head. He rounded the corner into the room. “This is your party, Anabel. Leave the work to Bodahn and Orana and me. You’re supposed to relax and just enjoy…” He saw her and immediately forgot what he had been saying. _Holy Maker_.

_It’s different from anything I’ve worn before. I’m a bit nervous actually._

She hadn’t been exaggerating. As enticing as the clothes she had been wearing for the last fortnight had been, this dress made them look positively drab in comparison. 

His first coherent thought was that he was going to murder Isabela. He should have realized. The moment Anabel had said she’d gone to the dressmakers with Isabela, he should have realized something like this would happen. This dress had to have been her idea.

It was red: unabashedly, shamelessly red, a deep scarlet that she shouldn’t have been able to wear with her hair and yet it looked flawless. Startling, arresting even, against that white skin and the contrast stirred some memory that his poor brain was still too flummoxed to quite recall. 

But the color was just the start. It was the style that was the truly startling aspect, something one might see in Rivain or Seheron even, exotic and far more revealing than Free Marches fashion (or Fereldan or Orlesian or Antivan for that matter). As she’d said, it was different from anything he’d ever seen her wear before.

The dress was sleeveless, the front and back sections connected only by a delicate gold chain, and all Sebastian could think of was the ease with which he could slip a finger beneath that chain and with a gentle tug, snap it, leaving her bare from the waist up. Not that a great deal of her was concealed to begin with: the bodice, such as it was only just covered her breasts, and left a wide and deep expanse of perfect white skin between them completely bare The fabric was skillfully pleated and draped, a perfect gauzy silk that seemed almost transparent, but there were so many layers of it swirling around her legs and feet that you couldn’t quite tell if it was an illusion or not. 

Orana had arranged her hair in thick coils twisted up on her head, revealing the straight lines of her neck and shoulders, and as usual when her hair was up it just made him want to pull out the pins so it would tumble down around her, so he could dig his hands into it and grasp handfuls of it. 

She’d worn the necklace he’d given her for her birthday, a delicate choker of vines and flowers connected by a scrollwork pattern, all picked out in small gemstones, opals and jade and emeralds for the flowers and the scrollwork in rubies, something he’d thought would complement the feminine colors and dresses she usually favored, but with this dress it took on a strangely barbaric quality, looking almost like a collar one would put on a favored concubine in Tevinter and suddenly all he could picture was her wearing the necklace and nothing else. 

She was smiling at him as if there was nothing unusual. “You know I can’t just sit around and do nothing.” 

She was wearing cosmetics as well, he realized, dark kohl around her eyes and a deep red lip color. Not a lot, nothing unsuitable or vulgar, but it gave her a sophisticated, almost mysterious look that again, was quite different. She walked towards him and the scarlet fabric swirled around her legs, seem to caress her whole body as she moved.

And then he realized what the dress had reminded him of:

The contrast of the red against that pale skin, the way the fabric seemed to cling, giving him almost taunting glimpses of the form beneath. He remembered now.

The image of her the demon Allure had shown him all those years ago in the ruins beneath the Harimann mansion. 

Anabel as his plaything willing to do anything he asked. 

_I can make her your perfect match._ The demon had told him. _Whatever you want her to be. Anything you want. You won’t have to pretend to be the perfect prince, the perfect priest, not any more._

_I can make her just like you._

Sweet Andraste he had done this, the very thing he’d wanted to avoid from the beginning, he’d turned Anabel into a seductress, a temptress. He couldn’t keep the dismay from his face.

She saw it of course. “You don’t like it.” She looked crestfallen. 

“No.” He said immediately. “It just took me by surprise. As you said. It’s very different from anything I’ve seen you in before. It’s lovely.” He said still frowning. He couldn’t seem to say anything else.

Her cheeks had turned pink and she looked away, unable to meet his eye. “There’s a shawl around somewhere that goes with it. I could put that on.” She looked so unsure of herself suddenly that Allure’s vision vanished from his mind. He silently cursed himself for being unable to hide his reaction. Thanks to him she was doubting herself and there was no reason she should. 

He crossed quickly so he was standing in front of her and she looked up at him, still uncertain. 

“You look beautiful, Ana.” He told her with complete sincerity. “Breathtakingly, startlingly beautiful.” It was no more than the truth. 

She stared at him for a moment as if trying to decide if he truly meant it and then smiled and went up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek, resting her hand on his chest to keep her balance.

He froze at her touch. It was the first time in a fortnight she had kissed him, the first time in a fortnight she’d pressed herself up against him. He could smell her perfume and feel the warmth of her skin, and the feel of just her lips on his cheek was making his heart race. 

She left her hand resting on his chest but pulled back enough to look at him and then laughed and reached up to wipe at the mark her lips had left on his cheek. “This is why I don’t normally wear makeup.” She told him looking up at him with those emerald and sapphire eyes that look even larger with the makeup she wore. 

This close he could see the perfection of her skin, see the way her breasts rose and fall with her gentle breaths, smell the scent of the shampoo she used and a wave of pure lust swept over him. He wasn’t going to be able to be near her tonight and not want grab her and throw her on the nearest surface and make love to her. She looked beautiful, desirable, absolutely irresistible. She looked like a seductress. 

And suddenly he knew. He knew what had been going on for the past two weeks.

She was trying to seduce him. Not just tonight but ever since that night he’d touched her. She’d grown as tired as he of the vow of celibacy and apparently she intended for it to end tonight. 

He had to tell her the truth. He had to resist her until he could. 

They’d been staring at each other as all these thoughts ran through his mind. She moved first sliding her hand around the side of his neck and pulling him gently forward so he bent his head towards her. She went up on her toes again, kissing him lightly and then running her tongue across his lips before nibbling gently at his mouth. He had to clench his hands to keep grabbing her and pressing her up against the wall behind him. Slowly she pulled away and that uncertainty was back. “I love you.” She whispered. 

_Blessed Lady_. How easy would it be to respond in kind, to take advantage of what she was offering and not have to tell her anything of what he had done. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t take the easy way out. He opened his mouth to say that he loved her as well but before he could there was a knock at the front door and Anabel had stepped back and turned towards the doorway. When she looked back at him she’d any trace of uncertainty had vanished. 

“Our guests are here.” She told him and turned and walked away, her movement slow and deliberate and he stared after her watching the sway of her hips, the way the fabric seemed to caress her whole body as she walked and he prayed for the strength to resist her until he’d had a chance to tell her the truth.

She paused at the doorway and looked back over her shoulder at him with a smile so sultry that he actually had a physical reaction to it. “Aren’t you coming?” She asked and even her voice seemed to promise and tease.

 _Flames_ , he thought. He’d be lucky if he didn’t spend the entire evening trying to hide his erection. “Of course.” He told her evenly and with what he could only hope was a serene smile. “Let’s greet our guests.”

 

Anders was whistling as he rounded the corner from the Hightown market towards Hawke’s mansion. It had been a fortnight since he’d overheard Sebastian’s confession and still the selfish bastard hadn’t said anything to Hawke. He’d been checking on her frequently, popping in when he knew the prat was out, tagging along on any jobs, wanting to be there when Hawke would need him, wanting her to know that he was still there if she needed him. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed just being with her. It had been years since they’d simply enjoyed spending time together.

But though Hawke had welcomed him warmly when he did turn up, she had been in a remarkably good humor herself, laughing and joking and seemingly carefree. Anders had begun to wonder if Sebastian ever would tell her, or if he would find some excuse not to. He’d begun to wonder if he would be forced to say something himself.

As he approached the mansion he saw Aveline and her husband coming from the Keep, both of them out of their guard uniforms and neither looking entirely comfortable that way. He’d always suspected Aveline only tolerated him for Hawke’s sake. She certainly didn’t bother to hide her disapproval over some of his actions. He suspected if Hawke hadn’t been there she might have made more of an effort to curtail them. Lucky for him Hawke was there.

He inclined his head as they approached. “Guard Captain, Guardsman. You’re both looking lovely tonight.”

Aveline gave him a suspicious look. “Anders.” 

“Are you here for Hawke’s party too?” He asked knowing the answer full well. “Look at me, palling around with the Captain of the Guard like this.” 

“We’re not pals.” She replied with a scowl.

He feigned surprise. “We’re not? What about that time we painted each other’s toenails?” He couldn’t help smiling when he saw a small frown appear on Donnic’s face.

Aveline had seen it too and her scowled only deepened. “Is there something you want Anders?”

“Love, life, and liberty. What more does a man need?” He asked with a grin as he knocked on the door. 

Aveline gave a small snort. “You’re in a jolly mood.”

“Well, when you’re here I know you’re not leading men into Darktown to arrest me. Good Evening Bodahn!” He proclaimed as the dwarf opened the door. 

“Good Evening, Messere Anders.” The dwarf replied with a chuckle. Anders didn’t wait to hear him greet the others but continued into the mansion. 

Vael was speaking with Fenris. Those two had become thick as thieves lately. Vael even had the mage-hating bastard going to the Chantry apparently. He ignored them both, his eyes sweeping the room for Hawke. She didn’t seem to be here, but Varric was over at the drinks table so he headed that way. 

Varric looked up and actually looked pleased to see him. Thank the Maker for Varric. 

“Blondie! Can I get you something to drink? Or is Justice not going to let you play tonight?” 

Anders was about to decline the offer when he saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye and turned automatically to see what it was. Hawke was coming out of the library with Isabela. 

_Andraste’s Holy Knickers._

She was wearing a new dress, a red dress, a dress like something out of a wet dream. In fact he was fairly certain that at some point in the last five years he had actually had a wet dream in which she’d been wearing exactly this. She looked sultry, exotic, more desirable than he would have thought possible. She looked sexy, not a word he normally associated with her – not that she wasn’t sexy. Maker knew she was, but her beauty was natural and her appeal effortless and unplanned…this was deliberate. This had been carefully considered and plotted, for weeks probably. This was a look designed for one purpose: to seduce. He watched as she walked over to Sebastian and pressed herself to his side, resting a hand against his chest. 

She was trying to seduce Sebastian Vael. Not flirt. Not coax. Not suggest. She was trying to get him into her bed. 

He hadn’t thought she’d be that bold. He hadn’t thought she’d be that determined or aggressive. He didn’t know why; her doing that was much more in character than the way she’d been dancing around the man for the last few years.

And when Hawke set her mind to something like that she usually got what she wanted. 

He turned abruptly back to Varric. “Whiskey.” He told Varric. 

Varric’s brow raised, and his eyes went to Hawke and then back to Anders. “Whiskey it is.” 

 

Isabela had quickly cornered her when she’d arrived, dragging her off to the library on some pretext that Anabel was certain no one believed. “Well?” she’d asked eagerly once they were out of earshot.

“Nothing.” She’d told her. 

“You’re kidding.” Isabela didn’t bother to hide her surprise.

Hawke forced herself to laugh. “Well he did look briefly horrified when he first saw me before he covered it up with that serene Brother Sebastian smile.” She’d wanted to sink into a hole in the ground when that had happened. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed. She glanced at Isabela to see her reaction to that bit of news.

The pirate was frowning. “Are you absolutely sure they didn’t geld him when he took his vows?” She asked.

Anabel ignored the question and shook her head. “Maybe this was a mistake, Izzy.” Varric had let out a wolf whistle when he’d seen her. She’d actually caught Fenris staring at her chest – Fenris of all people – before he’d flushed a dark red and since then he’d looked almost everywhere but directly at her. Maybe she should change.

“Oh no you don’t.” Said Isabela, seeing the wavering look on Hawke’s face. “Kitten, you are absolutely stunning, downright devastating in that dress. Fenris’ eyes bugged out of his head when he saw you and you know he thinks of you as his sister. I think Varric briefly considered cheating on Bianca. And Maker knows I could just eat you up. And you know I mean that literally.” She leaned forward and pressed a moist kiss on Anabel’s lips. “Mmm. Just delicious.”

Anabel couldn’t help laughing. She hugged the pirate. “Oh Bela. What would I do without you?”

“You’ll never have to find out sweet thing.” She said turning her towards the door, and giving her a gentle smack on the behind. “Now go get him. And don’t take no for an answer."

 _Don’t take no for an answer._ She repeated the words to herself with increasing frequency as the evening went on. The dress was getting a reaction, there was no denying that. Merrill had clasped her hands together sighing happily at how elegant Hawke looked (something that only served to make her wince imagining Leandra’s reaction to the dress and the makeup). Aveline had looked…not disapproving exactly, but strangely concerned, even as she told Donnic gently but firmly to close his mouth before something flew into it. Anders had looked downright uncomfortable, focusing at some point just past her when he spoke to her all evening, but she kept catching him staring at her with an almost grim expression on his face. 

Only Sebastian, the one she was wearing the bloody thing for, seemed as serene as ever, and seemed utterly oblivious to the way she was throwing herself at him, ignoring all the touching she was finally able to do.

Hadn’t he missed it at all? She wondered as she accepted another glass of wine from Bodahn, and took a generous swallow. Was she being too subtle? Because she didn’t feel like she was being subtle at all. She felt like she was making an exhibition of herself. Maybe that’s what was needed. Maybe, as Isabela had put it, she did need to just reach out and grab Messere Winky just to be certain there was no mistaking what she wanted? 

Maybe he truly wasn’t interested. Maybe that night he’d come to her room had just been a pity diddle. 

She found herself laughing out loud at the phrase. 

Varric and Merrill, who she realized she was supposed to be having a conversation with, both gave her strange looks.

“You going to share the joke, Hawke?” Varric asked.

How much wine had she had? Two glasses? Three, if you counted what she’d had upstairs for courage while she was getting ready. She should slow down. Slow down, or eat something. “No. Not this one.” She told him. 

Dinner was served and Anabel was finally able to relax a bit, if only because she and Sebastian were seated at opposite ends of the table so she didn’t have to keep up the constant touching and petting.

And if she was thinking of touching and caressing Sebastian as a chore this had definitely been a mistake. Not that it mattered, she thought glumly, though she kept a charming smile on her face as she chatted and laughed and performed all the duties a good hostess should. Sebastian seemed to be actively trying to avoid her touches now. And he’d barely looked at her since they sat down for dinner. She took a sip of her fourth glass of wine, realizing as she did that Anders was refilling his own glass. 

That was odd. Anders hardly ever drank; Justice disapproved, the old killjoy. 

Anders glanced at her and saw her watching him. She raised her glass in a toast and he smiled and raised his glass in return and they both drank. When she lowered it she saw that Sebastian was frowning at them. 

His wine seemed untouched. No wonder he and Justice had gotten along so famously when they’d met. Both of them killjoys. She lifted her glass offering him a vaguely defiant salute, and he smiled at her in a way that made her heart start skipping erratically and she found herself smiling back, all irritation forgotten, remembering suddenly why it was she was playing this ridiculous game. Maker she was pathetic. She could do this, she thought with renewed determination. And she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She set the glass down on the table without drinking and didn’t touch it again. 

They finished dinner, cake was served, and then everyone returned to the main room to listen to the Antivan musicians who had been hired for the evening. 

Sebastian sat there, listening to the music, wondering what had possessed him to hire Antivan musicians of all things; Antivans – with all their throbbing beats and insistent thrumming and passionately building melodies, possibly the most sexual music in all of Thedas. He must have been mad. 

He glanced down at Anabel who was sitting beside him, so close that he could feel her warmth and smell her perfume, watch the rise and fall of her breasts as she listened raptly, eyes shining, red lips slightly parted. 

He knew what had possessed him. He’d thought Anabel would enjoy it, had thought the music would suit her, and glancing down at her sitting beside him in that impossibly erotic red dress he knew that it was true. All he could picture was peeling that scarlet fabric away, exposing that perfect white flesh. He had to close his eyes and swallow hard. _Maker help him_.

The evening had been pure torture. The smallest touch from her went instantly to his groin. He’d lost track of the number of times he’d had to abruptly excused himself or move away from her and it had gotten to the point where he simply had to avoid letting her touch him. He’d thought he’d at least have a reprieve at dinner but all that served to do was give him an unobstructed view of her in that dress. So he’d looked away, talking to their guests, and then when he’d looked up she’d been laughing and drinking with Anders.

Anders, who had been opening leering at her all night when he thought no one was watching. He’d wanted to punch the man several times tonight already and he’d been unable to hide his reaction when he saw them together. Anabel had seen it and raised her glass as if daring him to object and the ridiculousness of the situation had struck him, both of them wanting each other so much, both of them trying to provoke some sort of action. He hadn’t been able to keep from smiling and miraculously she had smiled back and somehow just from that he’d let himself hope again. First thing tomorrow he would tell her everything. He could resist her until then, surely? He glanced down at her and saw to his dismay that the slender gold chain that served as the strap to her dress had slipped from her shoulder. She seemed entirely unaware of it, but from where he sat he could now see the perfect curve of the top of her breast, and from just that he felt himself grow hard. It was absurd, a man of almost thirty-four sitting there with an uncontrollable hard on as if he was an adolescent boy. He quickly moved his hand to his lap to conceal it, glancing around to make sure no one else had noticed. Thankfully everyone seemed entranced by the music. Their friends were happily drunk on the wine and liquor they’d provided. Isabela was in Fenris’ lap. Even Aveline was openly lounging against Donnic, her fingers entwined with his and her head resting on his shoulder. Merrill was sitting on the floor by the musicians, humming along under her breath. Anders was by the bar pouring himself yet another drink. 

Anabel suddenly shifted beside him on the couch and leaned her head against his shoulder, and sliding her hand beneath his, no doubt just trying to hold his hand.

Her fingers brushed against his groin and his erection, which had been subsiding finally came roaring back to life and he flinched away from her. 

She went absolutely still, but he couldn’t chance even looking at her. Still watching the musicians he gently picked up her hand and placed it back in her lap, before quickly returning his hand to where it had been. 

Anabel stayed very still for a moment and then murmured an excuse and stood, walking quickly into the library closing the door behind her. 

Sebastian cursed silently. She was upset. He knew she was upset, but he didn't dare stand yet. He fixed his eyes on the musicians trying to regain control. 

 

Anabel managed to make it into the library before she let the tears fall. 

She felt like a complete fool. 

She stood by the fire wiping at the tears she couldn’t seem to stop shedding. He didn’t want her. Or he wanted his life in the chantry more. Why else would he have rejected her so thoroughly just now? 

She heard the door close behind her, and quickly wiped at her eyes, only remembering the makeup she wore when she saw the black smudges on her hands. _Crap._ She fixed a smile on her face before turning to see who it was. 

Anders. 

She forced herself to smile. “Anders. Are you enjoying yourself?” 

He put down the glass of wine he’d been holding on the desk and walked towards her stopping right in front of her. He put a gentle hand on her chin and pulling wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb. “I never enjoy myself when my friends are hurting.” 

She opened her mouth to deny it and to her horror a sob came out. Anders said nothing, just pulled her to him holding her while she wept. 

She pulled back wiping at her eyes. “Sorry. I thought I knew what I was getting in to when I agreed to this whole thing. It’s just hard sometimes.” She couldn’t look at the pity in his eyes. “Maker, I’m such an idiot.” She muttered, looking away.

“He’s the idiot. To even ask such a thing of you.”

It was said so fiercely that she looked back at him in surprise. “No." She said, shaking her head. "He’s a good man Anders. I’m the one trying to change the rules. I thought it would be enough, being with him. I thought a chaste marriage wouldn’t be a problem. I’ve been a virgin for twenty five years, after all, why should it matter at this point? But lately it’s all I can think about.” 

And somehow Vael had her thinking it was all her fault, that only she was to blame. He’d spent the evening watching as the man rejected her over and over again, practically fleeing from her touches. He didn’t know what game Sebastian was playing, whether he’d changed his mind about telling her the truth but she didn’t deserve to be treated like that. 

He would never treat her like that.

She was staring at the fire again. “I thought he wanted me that way too. But I think I was wrong.” Maker it hurt to say that out loud. She tried to make a joke of it. “Well who can blame him. I mean, look at me in this get up.” 

To her surprise she felt Anders hands firm on her shoulders and he turned her to face him. When she looked up in surprise his eyes were blazing. His fingers caressed her shoulder, one of his fingers sliding beneath the chain strap.

“If he can’t give you that then he’s not a man.” Anders said and something in his voice had changed. Suddenly there was heat and desire. 

She looked up at him, startled thinking she must be imagining it. Anders had turned her down for years. “What are you doing, Anders?” she asked warily. 

His grip tightened and he pulled her closer to him, tilting her face up to him, and running his fingers along the line of her jaw. Perfect. She was perfect.

Dear Maker, she wasn't imagining it. Anders had chosen tonight of all nights to make a pass at her. She wasn't angry exactly, more just irritated by it. No wonder Justice didn't let him drink if this was the kind of thing that happened. “Anders, don’t.” She said firmly. 

He didn’t seem to hear her. His eyes ran hungrily over her face. “You were made for lovemaking Hawke. Look at you. How could a man live with you, be with you every day and night for months and not have you?” He ran his thumb over her lower lip “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

 _Sweet Andraste how drunk was he?_ She stood there unmoving, her heart pounding in her chest as she frantically considered the best way to deal with the situation without alerting the others to what was going on. Things were bad enough between Anders and Sebastian without him finding out about this. She forced a smile on her face. “We’ve both had too much to drink. You're forgetting, I’m a married lady.” She said forcing her voice to stay light. 

He shook his head slowly. One hand slipped from her shoulder and slid down to the small of her back pulling her flush against him, caressing her. “You aren’t married Hawke. Not really. If you were you’d know what it feels like to have a man between your thighs. Inside of you. To know the taste of him. To taste yourself on him. To feel him fill you. To come so hard that you can’t even remember your name.” His head bent closer as he spoke and his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. Everything he had wanted to say to her for the last five years was pouring out.

She shivered at his words in spite of herself, but it was Sebastian she was thinking of, doing all those things to her, not Anders. “Anders, please don’t.” She pleaded. She tried to step away from him but he came with her and she was backed against the bookcase now. 

“Don’t what?” He asked, leaning close and breathing in the scent of her. How long had it been since he had been this close to her? “Don’t make you realize what a sham this marriage of yours is? Don’t make you realize how darling Sebastian is as much a phony and a fraud as his Chantry?” His face was just inches from hers now. She’d wanted him once, his alcohol befuddled brain reasoned, and he’d foolishly turned her away. He could make her want him again. “Or don’t do this?” He asked and covered her mouth with his own. 

Much to his surprise she struggled against him and he moved one of his hands to her hair, holding her firmly in place. He groaned at the feel of her. At the taste of her. He’d forgotten just how sweet it was. He pulled his head back to look at her. “I’ve tried to resist.” He told her frantically. “For five years you’ve haunted my sleep. I wake every morning aching for you. It’s madness.” 

As drunk as he was she could easily get away from him, but she didn’t want to hurt him, and she didn’t want to attract the attention of the others. She tried to pull free from his grip, pushing at the hand that was buried in her hair away, feeling one heavy coil fall loose. Fantastic. Now she’d have to fix her hair with no mirror. She could only hope no one noticed the shoddy job she was bound to do with it.

Anders barely seemed to have noticed that she'd pushed him away. He simply moved that hand to her waist, holding her tightly again, nuzzling at her neck now as if there was nothing wrong about what he was doing, and her temper began to rise.

“Anders, stop it.” She said more loudly, and as he tried to bring his mouth down on hers again she twisted out of his grip. 

He looked confused by the action and grabbed at her shoulder, trying to keep her close. He caught the strap of her dress instead and she felt the chain snap. He bent to kiss her again, stumbling as he did and his mouth hit hers with such force she tasted blood. 

Genuinely angry now, she lashed out with the flat of her hand, catching him sharply in the solar plexus. And he doubled over, trying to catch his breath, and releasing her so suddenly that she stumbled back and hit the bookcase, falling to the floor and knocking several volumes down with her. 

For a moment there was only the sound of Anders gasping for breath. And then…

“Anabel?” She heard Sebastian call out.

_Fuck._

The door to the library pushed open, and suddenly everyone was there. 

“Anabel what…” Sebastian’s voice trailed off as he took in the scene. 

Anabel on the ground, her lip bloody and her hair tumbling down. Her dress torn. Anders still bent over, one hand on the mantel, trying to breathe. 

Varric didn’t even have time to finish saying “Oh, shit…” before Sebastian was on Anders smashing his fist into his face. It took the combined efforts of both Fenris and Donnic to pull him off, while Anabel scrambled to her feet, crying out “He’s drunk, he didn’t mean it.” 

When he had calmed enough to see straight, Sebastian pulled free from Fenris’ hands and walked over to Anabel, looking carefully at her. His face darkened when he saw the cut on her lip. “Are you all right?” He asked.

She nodded. “He didn’t mean it.” She repeated. “He’s just had too much to drink.” But to her surprise she felt tears spring to her eyes. _Flames_. Could the evening get any worse?

Sebastian pulled her into his arms and she went eagerly. 

He held her, soothing her, trying to quell the growing rage inside him. This maleficar had dared to lay his hands on her, had torn her dress, reduced her to tears. His Anabel. His wife. His eyes met Anders’ over the top of her head. “I’ve never liked you Anders but I never thought even you would stoop to this sort of behavior. Forcing yourself on a married woman, the wife of your host. I don’t care how drunk you are, it’s inexcusable.”

Anders gave him a look of pure loathing. “You’re not my host Vael. Hawke is. And it’s hardly a real marriage, is it?” 

How dared he? “Just because it doesn’t include the physical side of marriage doesn’t make it any less real and true.”

To his surprise Anders let out a harsh laugh. “And what would you know of true, prince? Certainly nothing as pertains to your marriage.”

Sebastian stared at him. A small flicker of alarm flared. No. There was no way Anders could know, he told himself. No one knew but Elthina, and certainly Anders would never have heard it from her. 

Anabel spoke out before he could, half turning to face the man, and placing a small hand on Sebastian's chest. He automatically covered it with his own. “My husband,” She said placing careful emphasis on the word. “Is the most honest and truthful man I know.”

Anders groaned. “Oh Hawke, open your eyes! He’ll never put you before that Chantry of his. He wants to keep you under glass and show you off to the world. ‘Look at this – I won’t take it but I’m sure as hell not going to let anyone else have it either!’ ” He saw the guilt in Sebastian’s eyes, and felt a thrill of satisfaction that the smug bastard knew his secret was out. He smiled grimly as he wiped the blood from under his nose. “What really bothers you, Prince? “ He sneered. “That I kissed her or that I might know your secret?” 

“Stop it Anders." Anabel said sharply. "Sebastian doesn’t keep secrets from me.” 

Anders was staring at Sebastian with a smug smile on his face. He didn’t look at Hawke when he spoke. “Are you sure about that?” 

“Of course I am!” She insisted.

Anders just laughed and she turned to look at Sebastian, wondering why he wasn't denying it. 

He looked pale, ill almost and he was looking down at her with eyes filled with regret. "Anabel..."

Just the tone of his voice, just that look at his face told her. 

Anders hadn’t been lying. 

Her heart was pounding, and there was a rushing sound in her ears. She was suddenly scared, truly frightened. “What secret?” She asked. “What is he talking about?” Her lips felt strangely numb. It was going to be bad. She didn’t know what it was but she knew it was going to be bad. Sebastian wouldn’t look like that unless it was going to be bad. "Sebastian?" She asked hating how lost her voice suddenly sounded, hoping futilely that maybe it was nothing.

Sebastian watched her helplessly, seeing his carefully constructed deception about to come crashing down. “Anabel…” He said again. He couldn’t seem to form any words. Perhaps it was that there weren't any words to excuse what he'd done.

Anders laughed bitterly. “Can’t even tell her now can you?“ He scoffed. “It’s not really surprising, Hawke.” He said. “You know how he dithers about everything. Staying a priest or taking back his lands. Fucking you or not.” He was still looking scornfully at Sebastian and missed Hawke flinching at his words. 

Anabel was staring at Sebastian. Sebastian still didn’t speak, just continued to stare back at her his eyes pleading, but she didn’t know for what. She loved him and he loved her, she told herself. That was what was important. “It may not be what you consider a marriage, Anders, but we love each other and we’re happy.” She said with a calm she wasn't quite feeling.

It was the truth, wasn’t it?

Anders groaned and when she looked at him she saw a flash of pity in his eyes. “You say that, Hawke, and then you sneak off to a room by yourself and break down weeping. You are so naïve. Sitting around your Hightown mansion, playing house with your prince, as if that will fix the problems of this city. Did you never wonder that your chaste marriage ceremony was no different from every other wedding you’ve ever been to? Did you never question why you never heard anything else about becoming a chantry sister?”

She had, but she’d ignored it, afraid that if she brought it up, if she asked questions about it that it would become a reality. Maybe he was right. Maybe she’d been pretending the fairy tale and ignoring the truth. “No.” She said with a shake of her head. “I trust Sebastian.” But she sounded less certain even to herself.

“Something that I’m sure this noble paragon was counting on.” Anders looked at Sebastian wanting to see his face as his secret was revealed. “Your marriage isn’t a chaste one, Hawke. It never was. There is no vow of chastity.”

Hawke shook her head. “I don’t believe you.” That couldn’t be true. Not after the way she’d agonized about it. Sebastian knew how difficult it had been for her. He wouldn’t have lied about that. But if it wasn’t true than why wasn’t Sebastian denying it? 

Anders continued as if she hadn’t said anything. “The Grand Cleric wouldn’t allow a chaste marriage so he made a deal with her. If he could be married to you for a year and remain chaste she’d accept him back into the Chantry and accept you as well. And he agreed to it and came back to you and told you nothing about it. He wanted it all Hawke, and he knew that if you knew there was no vow he would never be able to resist you, and then he’d never be a priest again. But he couldn’t chance you finding anyone else. He couldn’t have you, but he couldn’t let anyone else have you either. So he looked you right in the face and lied to you. That’s your honest, honorable husband.” He said triumphantly.

“That’s enough Blondie” Varric’s voice interrupted him and he glanced at the dwarf who was looking at Hawke. He followed Varric’s eyes. 

Hawke was white as paper and staring at Sebastian with eyes dark with pain. 

Regret flooded through him. He’d wanted Sebastian’s secret to be out, wanted everyone to know what a hypocritical, lying bastard the man was. He’d completely forgotten what it would do to Hawke. “Hawke…” he started to say.

She ignored him, still staring at Sebastian. “Is it true?” She asked him. 

“Ana.” Sebastian pleaded.

“Is it true?” She demanded harshly. Sebastian hadn't ever heard her sound like that, not when she was speaking to him. 

_You fool._ that voice in his head said. _Did you really think you could get away with it? That there would be no repercussions from your deceitful, dishonorable actions?_ “Yes.” He said simply. "It's true."

She flinched as if he had struck her and turned to face the fireplace her fingers gripping the mantel so hard her knuckles were white.

The silence in the room was deafening and Aveline stepped in to take charge. “Right. This is private. It’s time for us to leave. Now!” She added when the others didn’t move immediately. 

Anders was staring at Hawke. “Hawke, I…” He didn’t know how to continue. 

She turned and looked at him with unseeing eyes. “Thank you for coming. Sebastian, would you see everyone out please?” She turned back to fireplace.

Varric appeared at Anders’ side and all but pushed him from the room. 

Sebastian stood there, watching the pieces of his carefully constructed lie fall down around him. “Ana.” He started to say again.

She didn’t even look at him. “The musicians will need to be paid. And I think Orana and Bodahn and Sandal can leave the clearing up until tomorrow.” 

Unable to think of what to say in response he turned and walked from the library to do as she asked.

Fenris and Isabela were the only ones still there. Fenris turned to look at him as he entered the room, his disappointment plain on his face. “I once said I didn’t know if it was blindness or faith driving you. Clearly it was blindness.” 

Before Sebastian could respond Isabela had pushed past Fenris, poking one finger into Sebastian’s chest. Hard. Her eyes flashed. “You. Fix this. Now. Or I will come back and feed you your testicles.” She threatened.

Fenris slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her toward the door, but the look in his eye as he glanced back warned Sebastian that he might very well help Isabela.

Sebastian did as Anabel had said: made sure the musicians were paid, and told Bodahn and Orana and Sandal that they could clean up in the morning, and to go to bed. 

When he returned to the library, he found Anabel exactly as he had left her. She didn’t turn or look up when he walked in, closing the door behind him. 

He approached her carefully. “Anabel…Ana, speak to me. Say something.” He reached and put his hand on her shoulder and she jerked herself away from his touch.

“Don’t. Touch me. You don’t get to touch me.” She said through gritted teeth. She looked up at him and he was startled by the fury in her eyes. “You must think me a perfect fool.” She said low.

“No.” He denied “I’ve never thought that!”

She gave him a withering look of disbelief and walked to the desk in the corner, as far from him as she could physically be without actually leaving the room, he realized. “You get one chance to tell me the truth about this travesty of a marriage.” She told him.

“It’s not a travesty.” He insisted. “I love you. You are the most important thing in my life.” 

She let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, no, Brother Sebastian." she said with bitter emphasis on the 'Brother'. "I’m paying attention now. You’ll have to lie better than that.”

“I have never lied to you about that.” He said fiercely.

“Are we even married? Am I even your wife?” Her voice broke on the last word. She dug her nails into her palms to distract herself. She wasn’t going to fucking cry. Not now. She was far too angry.

“Of course we are!” How could she think otherwise? “We pledged ourselves in front of the Maker. We took vows.” 

No sooner had the word left his mouth than Anabel had whirled around and thrown a wine glass straight at him. He only just managed to dodge it and it shattered on the marble mantel behind him. He stared at her in astonishment. 

“Don’t say that word again.” She warned him. She started pacing back and forth, almost crackling with emotion. “You lied to me.” She finally said. “You lied to me and you didn’t need to.”

“I didn’t trust myself.” He started to explain.

“Bullshit.” She said sharply, cutting him off. “You didn’t trust me. When I said I loved you, you didn’t trust me. You didn’t believe me. You didn’t trust me.” 

“No.” He denied. “I didn’t trust myself.”

“A wise move as it turns out.” She wore a disdainful sneer that seemed completely foreign on her. She shouldn't look that way. Not his Ana.

And Maker help him he'd put that look there. He had to make her understand. “I only lied to you about the vow of chastity." He said desperately. "Everything else was the truth.” 

He didn’t duck quickly enough this time and the marble paperweight from the desk hit his shoulder leaving it throbbing. “Ana!”

She ignored his protest. “And what about this deal with Elthina? You didn’t think I should have known about that?” 

“That wasn’t a lie. An omission, perhaps.” He said, and immediately regretted the words.

She turned slowly to face him her, a disbelieving expression on her face. “An omission, perhaps?” She repeated back to him. 

Before he even realized she had moved, the pewter inkwell had come hurtling towards him: it slammed into his cheekbone with an explosion of white hot pain. 

“You lying selfish son of a bitch!” She screamed at him. She looked around for something else to throw. There wasn’t anything else on the desk. Had it been her own desk there would have been any number of things to throw but this was Sebastian’s desk, so it was carefully organized and clutter free, and for some reason this angered her even more. There had to be something she could throw. Her eyes lit on the chair and without thinking she picked it up. 

Sebastian immediately crossed the room and yanked it away from her. “Stop it Ana. Just talk to me. Just let me hold you.” 

“Fuck you!” She shouted and slapped him so hard that her hand went temporarily numb. She shook it, trying to get the feeling back, staring at him. Staring at the bruise on one side of his face, and the vivid handprint on the other. 

She’d hit him. And he’d just stood there and let her.

She’d hit him, hurt him, physically hurt him and it hadn’t helped at all. It still hurt. It still felt as if someone had torn out her heart and trampled it and tried to shove it back into her chest claiming it would work just fine. 

She didn’t think it was true.

She sank to her knees weeping and he was immediately there beside her. “Ana.” He was afraid to touch her. Afraid she wouldn’t let him touch her. 

She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. “Why? Why did you do this?” She asked him. 

“Because I couldn’t lose you. I couldn't risk losing you.” He had to make her understand.

“You would never have lost me! I would have accepted you on any terms at all. I did accept you on any terms. I believed in you. I trusted you. I trusted you completely!” She shouted at him. 

Past tense. She’d used the past tense. “I know. I'm sorry.” It sounded feeble even to him.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” She demanded.

“Yes.” He insisted. 

She gave him a disbelieving look. ‘When?” 

“Tomorrow.” 

She stared at him a moment and then started laughing. “Oh that’s a little too convenient, don’t you think? I would have thought the wicked prince would have been a better liar. Or is it that you need time to put your really good lies together?” 

“It’s the truth!” He insisted. 

She wouldn’t even look at him now. “I need to be away from you. I can’t do this right now.” She said trying to get to her feet. She stepped on the hem of her dress and landed on all fours. “Fuck.” She said wearily. She didn’t try to get up again but raised her head to look up at him. The naked pain in her eyes was almost more than he could bear to see. 

He had put that pain there. His selfishness and cowardice. He had done that to the person he loved most in the world. "Ana..."

“Go away. Please go away.” She pleaded. “Please just leave me alone.” 

He should respect her wishes and leave but he couldn’t, he couldn't leave her here, weeping on the floor. He couldn't leave when she was hurting so badly, not even when he was the one who had caused the hurt. “No.” 

“Go away!” She shouted. “I don’t want you here! I don’t want you!” She insisted and she knew it was a lie the minute the words left her lips. She did want him, or at least she wanted Sebastian, her Sebastian, but what if that Sebastian had been nothing more than a naive fantasy? What if that Sebastian had never existed at all? The thought tore a sob from her. She didn't know if she could survive that being true and some primitive part of her told her to pull away completely for her own safety, for her own survival. “I don’t want you.” She repeated, as if the repetition would make it true. “I don’t want…” She started to say a third time, and he put his fingers on her lips.

“You don’t mean that.” He said. She couldn’t mean that.

Tears were streaming down her face again, knowing he was right. “I do.” She insisted. “I have to, because I’d be an idiot to still want you after this. Only a fool would want you after this. And in spite of what you think I’m not an idiot or a fool.”

“I never thought you an idiot or a fool.” He insisted.

She lashed out again slamming her fists against his chest. “Then why? Why did you do this?”

She lifted her hands to strike at him again and he caught her wrists preventing it. “Because I couldn’t risk losing you!” He shouted. “I couldn’t risk you finding someone else, I couldn’t bear to see you having the life that we should be having.” She struggled to free herself but he just held her tighter. “Because I’m a selfish fool. Because each lie I spoke seemed to lead to more lies and dig me deeper and I didn’t know how to fix it. Because I couldn’t spend my life without you, and I would do anything to keep that from happening.” 

“You mean you’re a greedy coward and you lied.” She accused.

“Yes.” He agreed.

The admission seemed to enrage her further. She renewed her efforts to free herself and so he pulled her close against him, releasing her wrists and wrapping his arms around her holding her there “I love you.” He told her, his mouth at her ear. “I love you Anabel Hawke. I was the fool; I was the idiot, not you. I couldn’t lose you or Elthina so I tried to have you both. You're right. I am a coward. But it wasn’t you I didn’t trust, it was me. You are the most important thing in my life.” 

She made a disbelieving noise and twisted helplessly in his grasp finally giving up. She slumped in his arms. “I don’t know what you want from me! What do you want from me?” She cried in despair, looking up at him, pleading with him

“Oh my Ana.” He brought one hand up to cup her tear-stained face. “Everything.” He pressed his mouth against her forehead.. “Everything.” He whispered hoarsely. “Everything you can give me. Your whole life. All of you. Every part of you.”

She took a deep shuddering breath. “Just like that.” She retorted. 

“Yes.” He said looking at her steadily. 

“I hate you.” She told him. Even she could hear the lack of conviction behind the words. 

He looked down at her for a few seconds before shaking his head. “No.” He smiled, which should have made her angry but it wasn't a triumphant smile. It was kind and understanding and compassionate. He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the mouth. 

It was the smile that had made her first fall in love with him and it wasn't fair that it reminded her of that. “I do.” She insisted. "I hate you.

“No.” He repeated, and he knew it was true. “You’re angry at me, and you're hurt, but you don’t hate me.” 

She dropped her eyes, unable to look into those blue eyes. “I have every right to be angry at you. I should hate you.”

He lifted her chin. “Yes." He told her. "But you don’t.” He brushed his lips against her eyelids and she shivered in spite of herself.

“Because I’m and idiot and a fool.” She retorted looking away again. She was quiet for so long that he began to worry again. “I don’t know if I trust you anymore.” She finally said.

His heart twisted painfully, but the statement was no less than he deserved. “I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you. I will spend the rest of my life proving that you can.” He promised. “Just please let me have that life with you.” 

Tears ran down her face and she leaned forward resting her head against his chest, too emotionally drained to do anything else.

After a moment his hand began to gently stroke her hair, and in spite of everything she found herself being soothed by it.

A life with Sebastian. How long had she wanted that? She still wanted it so badly but was it even possible any more? Did she believe in him enough to accept everything he'd done? To accept it and believe in him enough, to believe that he wouldn't do it again? Something whispered at the back of her mind. A conversation they'd once had, years ago. "You're asking me to have faith in you." She said softly. 

He closed his eyes. “Yes. I am.” He answered and she was quiet again. He sat there, holding her, offering silent incoherent prayers to Andraste that he be given this chance, that she find it in her heart to let him have this chance, and for one utterly blasphemous moment he wasn’t certain if he was praying to Andraste or to Anabel herself.

“You can’t ever lie to me again” She said so quietly that had he not been mere inches away he would never have heard her. 

A thrill of hope ran through him. “Never.” He promised. 

She continued to rest her head against his chest. “You’re certain of your choice?” She asked. “You’re certain you can give up your life in the Chantry?”

“I’ve been certain of that for months, since our trip to the Vimark Chasm.” 

She looked up at him abruptly, a small frown on her face. “So all those touches and kisses the last few months?”

He’d promised her the truth. “I was trying to tempt you.”

“You were succeeding.” She said wryly.

“It was a double-edged sword I assure you.” 

"Good." she muttered under her breath. 

He couldn't help laughing. “I thought if I could get you to break the vow…”

Isabela’s words echoed in Anabel's mind: _If he breaks the vows then it won’t be your fault._ Maker’s tits they were a pair, the two of them. “Then it wouldn’t be your fault.” She finished. “I was trying to do the same tonight. We’re both idiots.” She told him.

“Well matched then.” He said with a smile. 

“Apparently so.” She gave him a careful look. “What about the vow of chastity?” 

There was a sudden flare of heat in his eyes. “No vow of chastity.” 

Her heart started racing. _Oh thank the Maker_ “No vow of chastity.” She agreed. 

He reached up and pulled the rest of the hairpins from her hair, as he'd been wanting to do all evening, and ran his fingers through it, savoring the feel of it and the way it looked tumbling down around her shoulders. 

_Beautiful_ , he thought. He bent his head to kiss her, pausing when he saw the cut Anders’ harsh kiss had left. His gaze darkened. “He hurt you.”

Something flashed in her eyes. “You hurt me.” She countered.

 _Yes, he had. And his hurt was the more grievous injury._ He nodded acknowledging the truth of the statement. “Never again, Ana. I promise.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, tasting her, his tongue gently parting her lips until he felt hers answering and continuing the kiss until they were both breathless.

“I thought you didn’t want me.” She whispered against his mouth. “All night you kept pushing me away.” 

“Not want you?” He repeated incredulously. “Maker, Ana, when I saw you in this dress it was all I could do not to bend you over the table and take you right there. 

She looked confused. “But you barely came near me.” 

He gave her an exasperated look. “It’s very unbecoming when a host walks around with a prominent erection all evening. It tends to make the guests uncomfortable.” 

She laughed and then blushed and hid her face in his chest. “I thought it was just me.”

“Thought what was just you?” He asked.

She burrowed further into his chest and mumbled something. He pulled her back “What did you say?”

“I thought it was just me that wanted to be bent over the table and taken right there.” She still blushed but there was a challenge in her eyes now. 

“No.” He said wryly. “It wasn’t just you.” He stared at her, her hair tumbling down around her, her dress torn, her eyes red from weeping, most of her eye makeup was gone, just a few streaks of black left and she'd never looked so beautiful to him. In the morning they would talk more, talk about everything but right now he wanted to make love to his wife, to finally consummate this marriage, to finally maker her his, to finally be hers. He kissed her again, and then stood and pulled her to her feet. “Come. Bed.” He said taking her by the hand and leading her from the library. 

Her heart was suddenly racing. _Bed._ Did he mean? “Are we?” She started to say, but couldn’t quite work out how to finish the sentence. 

Sebastian had stopped and was looking down at her trying to hide his smile. “Are we?” He repeated. 

“We’re going upstairs.” She said stupidly.

He stopped trying to hide the smile. “Yes.” He agreed. 

“To…” She couldn’t finish that one either. And now he was actually grinning at her. A rather heated grin actually. “Right now?” She said weakly. 

He bent and kissed her so thoroughly that when he finally ended it she had to grab hold of him to keep her balance. She stared up at him trying to remember exactly how to breathe. “Right now.” She agreed when she could speak again. 

“Right now.” He said, and taking her hand again, led her up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)
> 
> The story of Teagan's first love is a (relatively) short piece I wrote called [The Perfect Teyrna](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1183695/chapters/2415175>)


	28. At Last.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Anabel is nervous and can’t stop talking but it all works out to their mutual satisfaction.

Sebastian opened her bedroom door, and with his hand low on her back, ushered her carefully inside before closing it firmly behind them. 

Orana had turned down the bed, and left only the lamp beside it lit. It was her usual practice, but tonight it seemed to illuminate the bed leaving the rest of the room dark, as if it were the set of a play, Anabel thought: _in Act III the action will be taking place in the ancestral bed of the Amells, an oversized monstrosity forced upon the Champion by her mother._

Oh, Maker, please don’t let her start doing a bit…

She couldn’t seem to stop staring at the bed, and her heart was beginning to pound uncomfortably. She’d be on that bed in a just a few minutes. On it with Sebastian. On it with Sebastian doing… She wasn’t dreaming or fantasizing about it this time. This time it was actually going to happen. Less than hour before they’d been fighting, she’d been screaming at him, hitting him, throwing things at him and somehow they’d ended up here. About to…

Unaware that she did so, she caught her lower lip between her teeth and worried it gently.

Sebastian’s hands came to rest lightly on her shoulders and she actually jumped. 

“It’s all right, Ana.” He told her with a reassuring smile. “It’s just me.” He turned her around so she was facing him.

“We’re actually going to do this.” She said faintly. She’d wanted this for years and now here they were; she and Sebastian and that ridiculous bed. Her eyes searched his face seeking… confirmation? Reassurance? She wasn’t quite certain.

He was watching her carefully. “Do you want to wait?” 

“No!” She practically shouted the word, and then clapped her hand over her mouth and Sebastian couldn’t help laughing at the vehemence of her response. 

Still smiling, he moved closer. “Then, yes, we are actually going to do this.” He told her.

He seemed strangely at ease, relaxed almost. Whereas she…. How, after waiting so long for this, could he be possibly so relaxed? She leaned her head against his chest.

“I’m nervous.” She admitted. “It seems ridiculous to be nervous after wanting it for so long.”

His hands slid around her waist, firm and strong, large enough that they could almost span it and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s your first time. I think it’s perfectly natural to be nervous the first time.” 

He still sounded calm but there was a hint of something else in his voice, and when she lifted her head to look at him there was a glow in those blue eyes that made the blood rush to her cheeks, and she knew they’d probably turned bright pink. She supposed it would have been too much to hope for that she could have made it through this without blushing. 

“You like it don’t you?” She asked curiously. “You like that I’m a virgin. You like that you’ll be the first.” 

That heat flared again, sending her heart racing, and his hands tightened on her waist. “Yes.” He admitted. “I like it.”

Her cheeks turned even pinker and she had to look away. “I’ve never understood that.” She said looking anywhere but directly at him now. “It seems such an odd thing to value. And why value it in a woman but not in a man?” She felt like she was talking too fast, and little too loud. 

To his credit Sebastian didn’t seem to notice, or it didn’t seem to bother him. He brushed a curl out of her face, tucking it carefully behind her ear. “I suppose originally it was to ensure that any children produced from the union were those of the new husband. In days of old there would be witnesses to the deed, particularly among the nobility and royalty.” 

She gave a small grimace. “So I’ve read. And then they’d fly the blood stained sheets from the castle window like some sort of pennant to prove the deed had been done and the maiden had been pure. You aren’t planning to do anything of that sort are you, are you?” She asked. _Maker’s tits, Anabel, stop talking so much._

There was a hint of laughter in his eyes as he answered. “I hadn’t intended it, no.” He was looking at her with the vaguely amused, indulgent expression she’d seen on the faces of adults forced to listen to the incoherent babbling of a small child. 

Oh this was going swimmingly.

She tried to cover her growing panic. “That’s good to know.” She told him. “Not that there would be any doubt about the pure maiden thing, of course. Only, the sheets I’ve got on my bed right now are dark blue and they’re actually quite good at hiding blood stains. Not that I make a habit of bleeding on them, but it has happened. I do get stabbed with rather alarming frequency. We could change them I suppose. If your heart were set on it, I mean.” Her voice trailed off and when she glanced up at Sebastian he was looking as if he were trying very hard not to laugh now. 

“I’m sure the sheets that are already on the bed will more than suffice, Ana.” She could hear the laughter in his voice and when she looked up his eyes were twinkling.

They were talking about her sheets. Her sheets, on which in just a short time, at the age of twenty-five she was finally going to…. She nodded again. “Good. That’s good. Not that it would have been such a bother to change them. I’ve got loads of them. A whole cupboard full of sheets. Just sheets. Probably far more than I need, really.” A small frown appeared on her face. “Though I’m not sure if any of them are white. I know I’ve got some light blue ones; they’d probably do in a pinch. It’d be a strange sort of foreplay, I suppose. Making the bed. Of course I don’t really know much about the subject. Foreplay, I mean, not bed making. It’s that virgin thing again. It’s really left some significant gaps in my expertise now that I think about it.” Her voice trailed off again.

_What in Andraste’s name was wrong with her?_

“I believe I might be able to assist you with that. Fill the gap as it were.” 

She looked up in surprise and found him smiling. Grinning actually. 

She couldn’t help laughing and it actually calmed her a bit. Not nearly enough though. “I can’t seem to stop talking.” She told him.

“I had noticed. “ He admitted. “I might be able to help with that as well.”

She was about to ask how, but before she could he was kissing her, his lips firm and warm, and skilled, so skilled that her nervousness vanished and she couldn’t help but respond to it. Her lips parted under his and his tongue slipped between them, caressing and stroking and tasting, and she answered every caress with her own, pressing herself against him, bringing her hands up and slipping them into his hair, pulling him even closer. 

When he finally broke the kiss she was staring up at him with an almost dazed expression. Her eyes were huge and dark with passion, and Sebastian smiled in satisfaction. 

“Better?” He asked her.

She seemed to think about it for a moment. “Yes.” Her voice was richer than it had been. “More focused on the goal at hand, I think.” She told him. 

“So you’ve a goal now, have you?” He teased. 

She reached up and traced his lips with the tip of her finger, before going up on her toes and brushing her lips gently against his. “I do.” She whispered against his mouth. “I’m going to see if I can get my husband to make love to me.” She told him, pressing a lingering kiss there. 

His hands tightened on her waist and his pulse began to race. He hadn’t thought it would be so erotic to hear her say the words aloud, or perhaps it was the fact that it was actually going to happen this time; that ‘soon’ was finally ‘now’. His hands went from her waist to the swell of her hips and then slid around her back to cup her behind. “I suspect it might not be as great a challenge as you expect.” He told her, pulling her close against him and running his hands over that perfect curve. It was the only word for it: Anabel had an absolutely perfect bottom and he was almost embarrassed by how many times he’d thought that since they’d begun their acquaintance. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin silk of her dress and feel how flawlessly smooth that skin was… 

_Sweet Andraste._

His breath caught in his throat and his hands stopped moving. “You aren’t wearing any smalls.” His voice came out sounding strained.

Anabel blinked in surprise. “Oh.” She’d actually forgotten about that. Isabela had insisted they’d ruin the line of the dress and she had to leave them off. Sebastian looked so gob smacked by the revelation that she couldn’t help smiling. “No. I’m not.” She agreed.

He could only stare at her. “This whole evening you’ve been walking around with absolutely nothing on beneath this dress?”

Her smile deepened and for the first time since the evening had begun he could see the dimple at the corner of her mouth. “Apparently so.” She tilted her head to one side, her eyes wide and innocent. “Was that something I should have mentioned earlier?” 

Just the thought of it was making him ache. What would he had done if he’d known all evening that but for a few gauzy layers of silk held up by flimsy gold chains she’d been completely naked? Would he have been able to resist her? Carry on as if he was unaware of the fact? Or would he simply have carried her off to the nearest room with a door that locked and have stripped the dress from her to confirm the fact? 

He honestly wasn’t certain. 

His hand tightened involuntarily on her behind again and he closed his eyes, letting out a slow shuddering breath. After a moment he opened them and took a step back from her. “I want to see you.” He told her. 

His voice was rougher than before and there was an intensity in his gaze that left her momentarily speechless. The teasing smile she’d worn vanished. Strangely, she knew immediately what he meant.

She ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips. _I want to see you._ The idea seemed impossibly, almost unbearably, erotic and she realized she wanted it too. She wanted him to see her. She wanted to show herself to him. 

“Yes.” She replied, and just that simple word almost undid him. 

Without another word he turned her so she was facing away from him, and brushed the mass of her red curls over one shoulder. He quickly undid the clasp of her necklace and slipped it into his pocket. Another night he’d indulge his fantasies of captives wearing jeweled collars. Tonight he wanted to see her, just her, the way he’d thought about her for, Andraste have mercy on him, more than five years now. He leaned down and kissed the side of her neck and she shivered in response, bending her head to the side to make it easier for him. 

He smiled, and slid his hand up the front of her throat tilting her head back so he could kiss her mouth, a kiss so gentle and tender that it could almost have been chaste.

Almost. 

He moved his other hand to her chest, running his fingers along the exposed skin: gentle, feather light touches at the edge of her bodice where the snapped chain had let it drape lower, exposing the top of one breast. 

In spite of that broken strap, the dress had remained mostly in place. The intricate pleating had given it a stiffness which had kept it from slipping any lower. It had spared her any embarrassment earlier, but to Sebastian’s mind right now it seemed a serious design flaw. He carefully slid the remaining strap off of her other shoulder, and the garment immediately began to slide down. Without thinking Anabel raised a hand to keep it in place. 

Sebastian caught her wrist before she could. “No.” He said softly and returned it to her side. 

Still standing behind her, he eased the bodice down to her waist, carefully slipping her arm free of the garment. He reached up and gently cupped both her breasts marveling at how well they fit his hands, as if they’d been intended for that purpose, for him and him alone. He ran his thumbs over her nipples and they hardened at his touch. 

She leaned back against him, a slow languorous movement, arching into his hands. 

Perfect, he thought again. 

And still he wanted more. He’d never seen Anabel fully unclothed not in all the years they’d been together. Oh there had been quick stolen glimpses: the curve of her waist, her thighs, the length of her back, and her perfect breasts that one time when they’d spent the night on the Wounded Coast. But now he wanted to see all of her, to take his fill of that sight. Anabel, naked. 

He wanted to feast on it, to gorge himself on the sight of her body, with nothing in the way, with no one interrupting them, for as long as he liked. 

He moved his hands from her breasts to the back of her dress, unable to keep from smiling when she made a small sound of protest. He swiftly found the laces and with surprising speed and dexterity, loosened them, pushing the fabric over her hips and returning to stand In front of her in time to see the fabric land in a soft pile of crimson silk on the floor around her feet,

For a moment he didn’t move or speak: he just looked at her. 

Perfect, Sebastian thought again. He was going to have to find another word to describe her. Faultless. Flawless. Beautiful beyond compare.

_Perfect._

When he didn’t move or say anything Anabel glanced nervously up at him. He was staring at her, enrapt, his eyes travelling over her from head to toe, and it was… 

Far more awkward than she’d thought it would be. She didn’t know where to put her arms or hands, suddenly. Even standing felt strange, as if she was doing it wrong, and she had absolutely no idea where to look. She could feel her cheeks growing hotter. She snuck another look at him and he was looking …

Her hand went immediately to cover the spot. 

He caught her hand in his before she could. “Don’t.” He told her softly. “Let me see you, Ana. For so long I’ve wanted to see you like this. For so long I’ve imagined….” He had to stop speaking and take a deep breath. He raised the hand he held to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Let me, Ana, please.” His voice was rough with need.

The undisguised yearning in those blue eyes, and in his voice, made it impossible for her to do anything but nod in agreement.

He kissed her palm again and lowered her hand to her side, before stepping back again. His eyes traveled over every inch of her and a wave of desire swept through him, pure unadulterated lust that could have fed a demon for years.

Anabel had been watching him this time and couldn’t help but see it. She could only wonder that she could ever have thought he didn’t want her – physically want her. Her heart was beating so loudly she was sure he must be able to hear it, but it wasn’t from nervousness now.

“Step out of your shoes.” He told her, softly. 

She did as he asked, kicking them to the side. 

He walked slowly around her and paused at her back and then she felt his breath hot at her ear. 

“Lift your hair up.” He said in a voice barely above a whisper. 

She hesitated, confused by the request and then jumped, when his teeth nipped lightly at her earlobe. 

“Lift your hair up, Anabel.” He told her again. He’d regained that impressive composure. His voice was as calm and even as she’d ever heard it and she could almost think she’d imagined that bite. 

Obediently she lifted the heavy mass of curls up with both hands and shivered as the cooler air hit her skin 

She felt rather than saw him take a step back. After a moment, one hand ran briefly down her spine to the swell of her hip and then he moved in front of her again, his eyes taking in everything.

He raised his eyes to hers and they seemed to burn with emotion. With need. “Anabel Hawke Vael, you are perfect.” It was almost a growl.

She lowered her arms, letting her hair fall around her, hiding behind it, and shook her head. “No.” She denied. “I’m far from perfect.”

Sebastian reached out and took her hand, pulling her towards him, smiling down at her. “Perfect.” He repeated. “There isn’t a part of you I don’t want to explore. There isn’t an inch of you that I don’t want to touch and kiss, and caress, and taste.”

His voice was mesmerizing and she let him pull her closer. He stopped when she was a few inches in front of him and wrapped his arms around her. She lifted her hands to rest on his chest and looked expectantly up at him.

If Sebastian had thought her beautiful before, he had been almost overwhelmed by the sight of her unclothed. She was all white and pale pink and fiery red, her perfect breasts thrust pertly forward by her lifted arms, her narrow waist flaring out to softly rounded hips and then to velvety white thighs, and that exquisite triangle of fiery curls between them. Even the scar from her duel with the Arishok seemed only to emphasize the flawlessness of the rest of her skin. 

Had there ever been anything as exquisitely lovely, as impossibly perfect as Anabel, naked in his arms, staring up at him with such complete and utter trust?

After everything she’d learned tonight, after everything he’d done she still trusted him. He’d asked her to have faith in him, knowing full well how difficult that was for her and she had. It was far more than he deserved, quite literally the answer to his prayers, and he would spend the rest of his life repaying her for it. Beginning tonight.

He reached up and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. ’“You asked before if I liked that you were a virgin and I said yes, but you didn’t ask why. Would you like to know the reasons?” 

She went up on her toes and kissed him, a strangely chaste kiss considering the circumstances. “Tell me.” She said softly. 

His arms tightened around her and he moved one hand to caress the smooth skin of her bare back as he spoke. “My reasons have nothing to do with purity, or with ensuring the paternity of any children we have. They’re a bit selfish actually.” 

“Selfish how?” Her fingers toyed with one of the buttons of his doublet and after only a second’s hesitation she undid it, before moving to the next button and unfastening it as well.

He smiled, but didn’t comment on her actions. “I like knowing that I’ll be able to make your first time perfect.”

Anabel paused on the third button and looked up at him with an arched eyebrow and a small smirk of a smile. “Perfect?” She asked.

His hand trailed down to her bottom and the finger trailed along that smooth skin. “I intend to do absolutely everything within my power to make it so.” His gaze was steady.

He actually meant it. He wasn’t boasting or exaggerating or teasing, he was promising and the realization sent a rush of warmth between her thighs. She bent her head and continued to unfasten his doublet. “You said reasons.” She reminded him without looking up. 

He reached down and wound one long red curl around his finger. “I like knowing that I’ll be the first man you’ll feel thrusting inside of you.“ He smiled when her hand suddenly fumbled at the button. 

Putting a finger beneath her chin he lifted it and bent down to kiss her, catching her upper lip between his own and tugging it gently before releasing it. “I like knowing I’ll be the first to hear you gasp when I do so.” He murmured against her lips. 

She couldn’t help a small shiver and she gave up trying to unfasten the button. How on Thedas could just words make you feel like this? Every part of her was warm and throbbing and she could feel herself growing wet. Just from words. 

But she wanted more than words now.

She looked up at him, her lips parted, breathing a little faster. “I like that too.” She told him and there was something that was almost a challenge in her eyes.

Sebastian couldn’t help the small smile that curved his lips. His hands brushed hers aside and he made quick work of the rest of the buttons, shrugging out of his jacket and letting it drop to the floor beside her dress. 

He bent his head and kissed her again, more thoroughly this time, and when he tried to pull back she went on her toes to prolong it. Not breaking the kiss, he lifted her up, his arms tight around her hips and began walking her towards the bed. 

He moved his mouth to her neck. “I like knowing that I’ll be the first who’ll see the expression on your face when you orgasm from it. “ He whispered at her ear and she squirmed in his arms.

They’d reached the bed but instead of lying her down on it he turned still holding her and sat on the edge, lowering her down so she was standing between his thighs. The position put his face almost perfectly level with her breasts, and he brushed her hair back over her shoulders drinking in the sight of her. He put his hands on her waist and slid them slowly around and up her back, pulling her forward, drawing her nipple into his mouth and suckling gently. 

She let out a small whimper and arched her back, but those large hands splayed across her back kept her firmly in place. 

He reached up, caressing her other breast, and then lightly pinching her nipple between his fingers. The whimper was more of a cry this time, and he smiled as he switched his mouth to that breast, licking gently, soothing the sensitive bud before moving his mouth to the space between her breasts, feeling her heart racing beneath his lips. 

He wondered what other sounds he would be able to have her to make tonight. 

“I like knowing that I’ll be the one to introduce you to the hundreds of ways we can find pleasure in each other.” He turned his head and bit gently down on the side of her breast and her knees went weak. His arms tightened around her keeping her from falling. 

Her hand gripped his shoulder. “Hundreds of ways?” She repeated weakly, wondering if his voice, the sound of that soft Starkhaven burr speaking of pleasure and orgasm, and Maker, of thrusting, was one of them. 

“Thousands.” He amended. His hand traveled from her back to her bottom, and continued past there, until his fingers were teasing the insides of her thighs, soft touches that made her shiver and brought goosebumps to her flesh. She had to fight not to squirm, though she couldn’t have said if she would be squirming to get away or to get closer.

“That’s very ambitious of you.” She managed to get out, though her voice sounded decidedly breathy. She ran her hands through his hair, taking a perverse delight in mussing it, knowing that only she would see him like this, hair mussed, eyes dark with desire. And soon, naked and…thrusting. 

_Maker, please let it be soon._

She tilted his head back and leaned forward and kissed him, sliding her tongue into his mouth, exploring, and teasing. 

Sebastian’s arms tightened around her hips and he stood, carrying her around to the side of the bed, and lowering her down so she was lying on it. He took a moment to admire the sight of her like that: naked, her bright hair spread out around her, staring up at him, lips parted, cheeks flushed with an almost dazed expression in her eyes. “Don’t move.” He told her and stood again. 

She did of course, rolling onto her stomach, and watching as he disrobed, shrugging of his shirt and boots and trousers, before returning to her clad only his smalls.

He was beautiful. There was simply no denying it and no other word for it. Handsome didn’t do him justice.

He lay down, stretching out at her side, propping himself up on one elbow and ran a hand over her body, an easy, almost leisurely caress, completely controlled and patient, not urgent in the slightest, and she realized he’d been like that since they come upstairs. There was an effortless ease to his behavior, a sort of confidence that somewhat ironically reminded her of the assurance with which he carried out his duties as a brother in the Chantry. 

It certainly hadn’t been there in their previous encounters, those times when he’d been unable to stop himself from kissing her and caressing her, when he’d had to almost tear himself away from her. Those times had been frantic and uncontrolled. There had been an almost wild urgent to his touches, touches that had occasionally been rough enough to leave marks. 

That franticness wasn’t anywhere to be seen now and it puzzled her. Wouldn’t the anticipation, the knowledge that there were no longer any constraints, knowing that very soon they would be…shouldn’t that make him more frantic?

Sebastian saw her expression and mistook the cause. “We can go as slowly as you like, Ana.” He assured her.

“It’s not that.” She told him. “It’s just that…” She tried to think how to put it. “You’re being so gentle.”

“Is that so very unusual?” He asked with an easy smile. His fingers traced a line from her collarbone down to her navel momentarily distracting her from replying.

“No, of course not.” She said when she could speak again. “But when we’ve done this sort of thing before, we’ve gotten a bit, well, not gentle on occasion. Rough even, sometimes. A lot of the time. I suppose I assumed that when we finally….” Her voice trailed off. “I suppose I thought this would be like that.” 

He’d continued those soft caresses while she spoke, as if he was tracing a design over her skin. “Before I was trying to take what I thought I couldn’t have. Now I know I can have it.” His fingers circled around her navel. “Now I know you’re mine.” They brushed lightly against the flaming red curls between her thighs and then moved back to her stomach. He bent his head and kissed her, just a brush of his lips against hers. “Now I have all the time in the world.”

All the time in the world. She shivered. “The frantic and rough was nice too.” She said softly.

His eyes seemed to glow. “Yes.” He agreed. “And there’ll be time for that as well. But tonight. Right now.” He cupped her breast and brushed his thumb over the nipple before leaning down and running is tongue over the same spot. “Right now I want to learn every inch of you.” He closed his mouth over it and tugged.

She drew her breath in sharply. “And you’re that methodical a student.?” She asked, almost embarrassed by how throaty her voice sounded.

His mouth traveled to her ribcage, his breath hot against her skin, making her shiver. 

“I am.” He told her. He shifted farther down on the bed so his head was level with her waist now, and resumed his explorations.

She closed her eyes savoring the feel of his mouth on her. 

Sebastian was going to make love to her using all his knowledge and skill, all his confidence and care, all the love that he had for her, and in spite of everything that she had discovered tonight, in spite of how hurt she had been, she had never doubted that he did love her. 

He was going to draw on all of that. 

She was beginning to believe his promise that he would make it perfect.

His mouth was at her navel now. His tongue traced a circle around it and before moving to that taut stretch of skin between it and the bright curls below. He brought one hand up, playing with them, smiling against her skin when she squirmed.

He could tell how aroused she was, even without touching her, could smell the scent of her. He let his fingers slip lower, teasing, deliberately not touching her where he knew she most wanted to be touched. 

Her hand clutched at his shoulder. “Sebastian.” She pleaded. It was taking all of her control not to raise her hips and thrust herself into his hand but if he was going to play it cool, then she could too.

Of course moaning his name the way she had just now might have just ruined that illusion. His fingers parted her outer lips, tracing them, caressing, teasing. She’d let out a small frustrated whine before she even realized it.

“Shhh.” He soothed. “Slowly.” He moved one finger over the slick wetness, exploring, stroking, but still not touching that most sensitive spot. 

Her nails dug into his shoulder and she whimpered. 

He smiled at the sound. “Does milady like that?” He asked her.

Teasing. He was teasing her about it. “Please.” She said, not entirely certain what she was asking for. All right she knew the what, it was the how to ask for it that was giving her trouble. “Please.” She repeated desperately.

With a swiftness that left her blinking in surprise, he’d suddenly moved farther down on the bed, bending her legs, gently pushing them open and out, and then his face was between her thighs, just inches from…. 

_Rogue._ She reminded herself as her heart started beating frantically. How did she always forget that about him? He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, his breath hot against the sensitive skin and she jumped at the touch.

“Relax.” He soothed and she felt his fingers part her lips, stroking softly, sliding against the wetness there. 

She moaned as his fingers delved into her slick folds tracing all around caressing her everywhere but that one spot. “I don’t think I remember what that word means.”

“You are so beautiful here.” He told her. “Pink and glistening and wet. So wet for me.” The statement ended in almost a growl. He shifted down still farther and moved his hands parting her and she could feel his breath against her. She flung one of her arms over her eyes. 

“Anabel look at me.” 

She opened her eyes and looked at him down the length of her body.

He was staring up at her, his bright blue eyes fixed on her and almost glowing with need. Still watching, her he dipped his head and ran his tongue across the slick pink folds. 

She’d known what he was about to do, but couldn’t help crying out, throwing her head back at the feel of his tongue on her, soft and hot and firm all at once. When she looked back at him her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing hard, her lips parted. “I used to dream about your doing this. Fantasize about it.” She told him. 

So had he, countless times. “Doing this?” His tongue ran up again a little more insistently this time.

She arched almost off the bed. “Yes.” She gasped.

“What about this” he asked. His tongue moved lower, darting inside her, tasting her, her muskiness, her sweetness.

“Sebastian.” She gasped. Holy Maker. Her entire body was tingling. Why on Thedas would anybody need electricity when someone’s mouth and tongue could make you feel this?

“Or was it more something like this that you pondered?” Sebastian questioned running his tongue around the small pearl of sensation, before closing his lips around it and sucking and licking it gently until her hand fluttered down and her fingers tangled in his hair. 

One last swirl of his tongue and he pulled reluctantly away. 

“Don’t stop.” She pleaded. 

He ignored the request. “Or perhaps you imagined my fingering you at the same time I tasted you?” He slid one finger slowly inside her. 

She moaned, and sweat broke out on his forehead at the tight heat of her, imagining how that heat would feel gripping his cock. 

_Easy._ He told himself. _Slowly._ He pulled the finger out and then thrust it slowly in again, watching as Anabel tossed her head on the pillow. He smiled in satisfaction. _Gently._

He added a second finger to the first and moved them together, slowly in and out. “Was it both, Anabel?” He prompted. 

She made an incoherent noise and he smiled. “Is that a yes?”

She honestly couldn’t recall if she had actually fantasized about that but Holy Maker it sounded like an amazing idea right now. “Yes.” She managed to get out. 

Still moving his fingers slowly in and out, he bent his head again, once more sucking and licking until she reached down, winding her fingers in his hair, gripping tightly and almost grinding herself against his mouth. He increased the speed of his fingers and the pressure of his mouth and tongue and then he gently grazed his teeth over the sensitive nub and very quickly she was crying out and clenching around his fingers. He slowed the movements but continued to run his tongue softly against her until her hands fell away from his head. He place one last kiss on the inside of her thigh and shifted so he was lying over her, propping himself up on his elbow so he wouldn’t be too heavy. She was covered in a light sheen of perspiration and her cheeks were flushed. She’d never looked so lovely. 

He stroked her hair back from her face, smiling down at her.

She managed a small ragged laugh. “You look far too pleased with yourself, Sebastian Vael.” She told him. 

“Too have pleased you so well?” He replied. “Yes, that pleases me.” He bent his head and kissed her.

She could taste herself on him, and when he moved she could feel how aroused he was, could feel the hard length of him pressing against her still sensitive skin through the fabric of his smallclothes and in spite of the fact that she wasn’t even certain if she could stand upright were she asked, now she wanted more. She wanted Sebastian inside her. She wanted to see him and touch him, to please him the way he’d just pleased her and to feel him pushing inside her, finally. She wrapped her arms around him and raised her hips, pressing against him. “Please.” 

“You want something more?” He gave her a teasing kiss. “What a greedy girl you’ve become suddenly.”

If he’d hoped to make her blush he’d failed. “I have” She told him with an unrepentant grin. ”I am. For this, for you, I find I am quite greedy.” She had a gleam in her eyes, and he suddenly found himself flipped to his back and straddled by her, his hands pinned by the side of his head. “So greedy that if I’m not given what I want I might just be forced to take it.” 

“Would you now?” He asked, wondering how far she might take this. 

Still holding his wrists she leaned forward brushing her breasts against his chest. She pressed a quick kiss to his mouth. “I would indeed.” She told him, and then proceeded to kiss her way down his body, kisses and small nips and gentle bites when a particularly pleasing ridge of muscle seemed to call for it, releasing his wrists when she reached his waist, dragging her nails lightly through his chest hair. 

He closed his eyes, savoring the sensations caused by lips and tongue and teeth, even by that silky hair trailing along his skin , not even minding the throbbing ache it was causing, knowing that this time there would be release, and not from his own hand.

And then she pressed her mouth to that ache, to the length of him and exhaled and the heat of her breath.... 

Blessed Andraste have mercy on him, he thought, and winced at the blasphemy of the statement. He raised himself up on one elbow. “Anabel.” he warned.

She turned and looked up at him through her mane of hair, her mouth still pressed against him, and the sight of her like that nearly undid him. She lifted her head but moved her hand to where her mouth had been, applying gentle pressure to the length of him. “Turnabout is fair play.” She informed him. Before he could stop her or encourage or do anything she’d begun unlacing his smalls, pushing them down until his erection sprang free.

Her eyes widened at the sigh and before she could stop herself she’d licked her lips. “Oh my.” 

The sight of her, flushed from her own pleasure, her hair wild around her staring round-eyed at his cock was arousing all in itself. 

She moved closer, brushing her mouth and cheek gently against it before bring her hand up to encircle him. She stroked it slowly up the length of him, running an exploring thumb over the tip. 

And then she surprised him. Before he realized what she was about to do she’d bent her head. Her hair fell forward, and his view was hidden and then his fists clenched as he felt her tongue trace the same path, and then her mouth was on him, warm and wet and sliding down, her tongue swirling seemingly everywhere.

Pleasure burst through him. Too much. How on Thedas had she gotten the upper hand so quickly? 

“Anabel!” He reached down for her and she slid her mouth back up, releasing him and he pulled her roughly up, turning her to her back so he was above her.

She was looking up at him with a small confused frown. 

“I won’t last if you do that. Not tonight.” He explained. 

The frowned deepened. “But I…” She started to say and he leaned forward and kissed her.

“This first time, I want to last. I want to be inside you when I come.” He brushed her tangled hair back from her face. “I want to be inside you and feel you tighten around me when you come.” Just the thought of it. He needed that and he didn’t want to wait any longer. “I want to make love to you, Ana. Tell me I can. Let me make love to you.” 

She didn’t answer right away. Even now he was asking, making certain this was what she wanted. 

And Sweet Andraste she wanted it. She’d planned the whole evening to end up here, and in spite of everything that had happened, she had. She’d thought she’d lost him earlier, she thought that after what she’d discovered that she would never trust him again, that there would be no future for them. They’d worked through it or worked through it enough to have ended up here, just as she’d intended, though not any way close to how she’d intended. 

No doubt she should be thinking more about it: about the lies he’d told and why he’d told them and why she was so willing to forgive him those lies, but she wasn’t going to. She needed this. She needed the reassurance that everything he’d done he really had done because he loved her and he wanted her. She needed to make him hers, completely, irrevocably hers, and Maker, she just wanted it; finally, at last, after years of aching for it, for him, she wanted to make love with Sebastian Vael, and maybe that was being selfish, or stupid, or willfully blind but she still wanted it, wanted him and all the rest of it she’d think about later. 

_After._

“Make love to me.” She told him. “I want you to make love to me” 

Relief flooded through him and he realized a part of him had been afraid that she’d refuse him, that she hadn’t truly forgiven him for what he’d done, but no. He’d asked her to have faith in him and she had. A wave of guilt over what he had done washed over him again. _promise. I promise I’ll make it all up to you._ He didn’t speak the words aloud. This was something he had to show her, not tell her. 

“You’re sure?” He asked carefully.

She smiled then, and kissed him. “So sure.” She whispered huskily against his mouth. 

He didn’t deserve her. He didn’t deserve her but he was going to take her anyway, make her his and never give her up. He returned her kiss with all the franticness that hadn’t been there earlier, and Anabel found herself soothing him, stroking his hair and slowing the kiss until that franticness was gone, and only the passion remained.

He continued kissing her and caressing her, lips, and throat, and breasts, and belly, until she was trembling with need. Only then did he let his hand move to between her thighs again. He slipped one finger inside, still kissing her still caressing her as he slid it gently it in and out. When her hips began to rotate under his ministrations he added a second finger, spreading them slightly as he moved them, watching her face carefully for any sign of discomfort. 

There was none. Her eyes widened briefly but it wasn’t pain or discomfort he saw there. She ran her tongue over her parted lips.

“More.” She pleaded. He parted her thighs and slipped between them bracing himself on his arms.

She could feel the hardness of him rubbing against her slick folds, sliding against her but not entering her. “Please. Please, now.” 

He positioned himself at her entrance and pushed forward slightly. Even as aroused as she was, she was so tight. He pushed deeper feeling a slight resistance and stopped again.

Anabel gave a small growl of frustration. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He muttered resting his forehead against hers. 

She honestly hadn’t seen herself rolling her eyes in the midst of this experience, but she found herself doing just that. “Sebastian, I get stabbed on a regular basis. And as impressive as your ‘equipment’ is, I don’t think your thrusting it is going to hurt more than a sword thrust into my side. I’m pretty sure I can take it.” 

He found himself laughing. “You are an impossibly sassy and irreverent woman, you do realize that?” 

She smiled, but didn’t answer him, instead running her hands down his back to his behind, pulling him closer. “I want you inside me.” She told him in that rich caramel voice, made even richer with need. “Right now.”

And like that any hesitation was gone. With a growl he thrust deep inside her a feeling that small resistance yield easily. Hawke’s hands tightened briefly on his back. With control he didn’t even know he possessed he forced himself to stop moving.

“Are you all right?” She was hot and tight, so tight and slick around him. 

Anabel’s eyes were filled with wonder. Her hands continued stroking down his back. “You’re inside me.” 

He nodded, incapable of words. 

“It feels. Amazing.” She pulled slightly back and then pushed forward again. 

Sebastian’s fists tightened in the sheets on either side of her at the movement but she didn’t seem to notice. Her head was tilted slightly to one side as experimentally she moved her hands to his buttocks holding him there while she repeated the movement, this time rotating her pelvis against him. 

With an almost feral snarl Sebastian grabbed her hands and pressed them down by her shoulders. 

She stared up at him startled by the reaction. 

He prayed for strength. ‘You are going to make me lose control.” He told her. There was a fire in his eyes something wilder than she’d ever seen before in his face, and she felt a thrill of excitement deep inside. 

“Lose control.” She challenged in a whisper. 

His eyes seemed to flash. He locked his fingers with hers, pinning her hands to the bed by her head, holding them there, and thrust deep, closing his eyes at the sensation, hearing her gasp and smiling in satisfaction at the sound. _I want to hear you gasp when I do. _Once. Twice. And then again.__

__So good. He opened his eyes to find her watching him. The green of her eyes was almost swallowed by the blue. He slowly lowered his head to kiss her._ _

__“Move with me Anabel.” He coaxed. He pulled out and slid back in. “Meet me.”_ _

__Out and slowly back in._ _

__“Find the rhythm.” His soft words were hypnotic. She tentatively lifted her hips and met his thrust and moaned at the slight change contact, as different parts of her were caressed._ _

__“Yes. Just like that. Move with me.” Another thrust. Another meeting. “Perfect.” He said through gritted teeth as she met him again. And again._ _

__He continued the movement, faster and deeper, and she matched her pace to his._ _

__He released her arms, moving his hands to either side of her, bracing himself higher so he could thrust deeper._ _

__She cried out when he did and he smiled again, watching her now, still moving, but watching every expression on her face._ _

__They were both perspiring now. “Don’t stop.” She pleaded. “Oh, please don’t stop.” Something was building inside her, an impossibly perfect something. She tossed her head back, biting at her lip._ _

__Just the sight of her. “Anabel.” He moaned. He was so close._ _

__“So close.” She gasped out echoing his thoughts. “Don’t stop.” She said again. She gripped his forearms feeling the muscle flex as he moved, using it to brace herself so she could meet his every thrust._ _

__They were moving faster, harder now and she was positively writhing beneath him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer._ _

__“Let go Ana. Come for me. Let go.” Her eyes were fixed on his. He slipped his hand between them and with just the slightest pressure, just a few strokes of his thumb against her clitoris and she cried out clutching at his arms, clenching around him arching off the bed and then he was coming too, a release, that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside and he couldn’t help the hoarse cry of her name as he collapsed on top of her. Her arms went immediately around him._ _

__After a moment he pushed himself up to look at her. She was flushed and her mouth was swollen from his kisses. Perspiration matted curls to her face._ _

__She tried to speak, and had to stop and try again. “I cannot believe you voluntarily gave that up.” She finally managed to get out._ _

__He laughed and bent down to kiss her; once on each eyelid and then on her mouth. “If it were always like that I don’t think I could have either.” He kissed her knowing that he could never have enough of her._ _

__She suddenly looked shy. “It isn’t always like this?”_ _

__He stroked her face gently. “It’s never been like this before.”_ _

__Her arms went around his neck, clinging to him and he held her close, murmuring that he loved her, and hearing her whisper the words back._ _

__After a few moments he lowered her back down and after kissing her once left her, walking naked to her bathing chamber and returning with a basin of water and a towel._ _

__She was watching him avidly, and when she realized he’d noticed she smiled at him. “You should always walk around naked.” She commented._ _

__“The neighbors would probably object.” He said dryly, sitting on the edge of the bed and dipping the towel into the water. He ran the towel over her wiping the perspiration from her face and body._ _

__“The neighbors would probably applaud.” She informed him._ _

__He moved the towel gently between her legs cleaning there as well, something she would have thought she’d have been embarrassed by, but Sebastian did it so easily, so carefully that she found she wasn’t. When he’d finished he bent and kissed her, tossing the towel into the bowl. “Are you sore?” He asked as he climbed back into bed with her, pulling the covers over them both and turning off the lamp before pulling her into his arms._ _

__She shook her head. “I feel fine. Better than fine.” A small lie. She actually felt wonderfully …. stretched, and perhaps a bit sore, but nothing she was going to admit to. She snuggled against him, trying to hide a yawn. She was suddenly exhausted. It had been a long day. A long strange day so many highs and lows that it made her head spin to think of it. She let her eyes close. “I’m regretting not changing the sheets.” She told him, nuzzling against him. “I would have liked to have dangled them out the window. Just to let everyone know I’ve finally done it. We’ve finally done it.”_ _

__“I’m sure Varric and Isabela will take care of that when they find out.” He reassured her._ _

__A smiled curved her lips. “Very true.” She was quiet for a few minutes. “Thank you.” She said suddenly. She sounded half asleep._ _

__He stroked her hair. “For what?”_ _

__“For the sex.” She mumbled. “It was nice. Better than nice”_ _

__He smiled. “I’m very glad you thought so. Sleep now, love.”_ _

__In just seconds she was asleep._ _

__Sebastian stayed awake, watching her, holding her, savoring the feel of her._ _

__Wondering how soon he could wake her up and make love to her again._ _

__He frowned as he thought of something, and after a moment, carefully eased himself out of the bed, pulling on his trousers and going downstairs to his desk. He pulled out a sheet of paper and wrote a few lines before sealing it and addressing it, and leaving it in the kitchen with a note asking Bodahn to see that it was delivered first thing in the morning._ _

__He returned to the bedroom trying to climb into bed without disturbing Anabel, but as soon as he lay down she turned and reached for him, snuggling into his arms without ever truly waking._ _

__He was soon asleep himself, and sleeping better than he had in months._ _

  


__Grand Cleric Elthina look up as Sister Alma came into her office holding a letter. The first service of the day had just started, and you could faintly hear the chant being sung._ _

__“This was just delivered for you Grand Cleric, by that dwarven servant of the Champions.” Sister Alma told her._ _

__“From the Champion?” Elthina asked._ _

__“From Brother Sebastian, actually. It’s marked personal.”_ _

__Elthina frowned as she took the letter. “Thank you Sister Alma.” She waited until the sister had left the room before opening it._ _

_____Dear Grand Cleric,_  
 _This is to inform you that I have failed to uphold my part of the bargain we reached early last year._  
 _As that is the case, I will be unable to renew my vows as a brother._  
 _And thank you._  
 _I remain your devoted servant,_  
 _Sebastian Vael_

__Elthina was still smiling when Sister Alma returned._ _

__“The letter was good news then.”_ _

__Elthina’s smile broadened. “Very good news.” She informed her. “The answer to a prayer.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who stuck with this story through 600,000 words of promised but no actual sex. There will be sex from now on.
> 
> Thank the Maker...
> 
>  
> 
> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	29. An Everywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sebastian and Anabel spend five days in bed, and then have to join the real world again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from a John Donne poem "The Good Morrow":
> 
> "And now good-morrow to our waking souls,  
> Which watch not one another out of fear;  
> For love, all love of other sights controls,  
> And makes one little room an everywhere."

Anabel woke smiling the next morning. Smiling even before she’d fully opened her eyes. 

How could she not? She was waking up naked, pressed up against an equally naked Sebastian, clinging to him like a small monkey if she were perfectly honest, savoring all that warm skin and hard muscle and the feel of the strong arm wrapped securely around her holding her close.

Naked was good, she decided, pressing closer still. Naked should be encouraged. 

She slowly opened her eyes wondering what time it was. The sky was only just starting to lighten. Barely dawn. 

Good. No reason to leave the bed yet.

It had still been completely dark when she’d woken to Sebastian’s caresses earlier, hands and mouth and tongue, sensation everywhere, over her whole body. He hadn’t spoken a word, and in the silence and the darkness those touches had seemed magnified somehow, and she’d been trembling with need when he’d finally turned her on to her stomach and had slid into her from behind, propping himself up on one arm and stroking her back and shoulders when she began trembling with need all the while thrusting gently in and slowly pulling out again, as she pushed back against him, trying to drive him deeper and harder and faster, shaking now because she’d wanted more, needed more, until he’d taken pity on her and rolled to his side, pulling her with him, finally thrusting deeper, lifting her leg and placing it over his, and reaching between her thighs to caress her with such skillful precision that her orgasm had seemed to come from everywhere, inside and out, wave after wave, with Sebastian’s mouth at her ear, finally speaking, telling her how much he loved her, that he was hers forever, and she’d had to struggle to form the words to tell him she loved him too, that she was his as well, and it wasn’t until she did that he found his own release. She’d been barely able to move after that, and didn’t even remember falling asleep again.

She stretched, feeling aches in unaccustomed muscles and places, and snuggled against Sebastian. He didn’t wake but his arm tightened around her. She could happily stay where she was for the rest of the day, she thought, closing her eyes again.

She opened them a few seconds later. She really had to pee. 

_Damn it._

She carefully eased herself free, and retreated to the other room to take care of that little problem. 

When she returned, Sebastian had turned on his stomach, one arm stretched out to the side she’d been on, as if he’d been reaching for her. 

The sheet was tangled around his hips. Mostly. He was lying with one knee bent and the movement had pulled the sheet partially off, revealing most of one perfectly sculpted buttock.

Dear Maker, he was beautiful naked. More beautiful than she had imagined, and she had spent a lot of time in the last five years imagining Sebastian Vael naked.

Unable to stop herself (though to be perfectly honest she wasn’t making much an effort to) she crawled up onto the bed, carefully pulling the sheet back, wanting to get a better look at that flawless indentation of muscle. 

What she found there was a surprise.

 _Holy Fuck._ She sat back on her heels and stared.

_Was that?_

All pretense at subtlety gone, she pulled the sheet completely away and moved closer turning her head to examine it more carefully.

Sebastian had a tattoo. 

On his ass. 

They’d discussed tattoos once after Isabela had given her that henna tattoo and Anabel had made an offhand remark about Sebastian’s being far too proper to have one himself. He’d smiled so enigmatically that she’d wondered briefly if she might be wrong, but since then she’d seen almost every part of him unclothed that might have a tattoo, shoulders and back and chest, and there hadn’t been one and she’d reached the conclusion, prematurely apparently, that her first assumption had been correct. He was far too proper for such a thing.

Because never in a hundred years would she even have suspected that good Brother Sebastian, the oh so proper Prince of Starkhaven, her polite and dignified nobleman husband could actually have a tattoo on his ass. 

Even now, looking right at it, the image of Sebastian sprawled out on a table or a bed, with his rear end exposed for all to see while someone tattooed it seemed improbable at best. 

She stared at it for a moment. It was beautiful -- the ass and the tattoo both -- truly a work of art, absolutely exquisite, and Maker, it must have cost him a fortune.

It wasn’t small, about the size of her palm, and even if it had been smaller, the subject matter alone kept it from ever being considered subtle. The tattoo artist (and he had been an artist) had used gold ink; not ink that purported to be gold but was actually a dull-bronze color. No, this was gold, real gold, she would bet, somehow formulated into tattoo ink, bright and shiny as a sovereign and almost glowing against that rich tan skin. 

That alone would have caught the eye, but when you added the subject matter… she had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing aloud.

Even with all the tales she’d heard of the wicked prince Sebastian used to be, she would never had guessed he’d be brazen enough to tattoo that anywhere, let alone on his ass, and yet there it was.

The double sun symbol of the Chantry: the larger gold sun, and then inside it the smaller sun, in a rich brown ink a few shades darker than Sebastian’s skin tone. The artist had added shadow and highlights to both and it actually shimmered, even in the dim light beginning to filter into the room. 

It was only then that she realized that what she’d thought was a circular border around the symbol was in fact writing, elaborate calligraphy, also in gold, and she crawled forwards, balancing herself on her elbows and knees, brushing her hair impatiently out of her face, trying to make out the words. 

_If found please return to the nearest Chantry._

She burst out laughing and then squealed in surprise as a strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her up and onto her back. 

Sebastian smiled down at her. “You might at least ask permission before ogling my backside quite so openly, Mistress Vael.” 

She grinned unrepentantly up at him. “I don’t need permission. You belong to me now. I can ogle wherever and whenever I like.”

“Is that so?” He asked with an arched eyebrow, before bending down to kiss her softly.

“Mmm. It works both ways though; you can ogle me as well if you like.” 

He propped his head up on his elbow and his eyes swept down the length of her body and back up to her face. “That seems quite a fair offer. I may have to take advantage of it later on.” He said with a gleam in his eyes that quite took her breath away, before leaning forwards and kissing her again. “Good Morning, Mistress Vael.”

“Good Morning.” She replied. “I was just admiring your tattoo. It’s quite a statement.”

He gave her a wry smile. “Well, it was intended to be.” 

He seemed almost amused by the tattoo rather than embarrassed or ashamed in any way. “What’s the story behind it?” She asked curiously.

He stayed lying on his side, but propped his head up with his hand and traced a finger along the line of her collarbone. “I was fifteen. I’d just been informed that despite my objections I was to be given to the Chantry when I came of age. I was furious. Furious and frustrated and determined to make my parents regret their decision, or failing that at least be as much of an embarrassment as I could possibly be before I was shut away behind chantry walls for the rest of my life. I ran off with a group of my least reputable friends and managed to make it all the way to Antiva, where I sought out the best and most expensive tattoo artist in Antiva City, paid him triple the usual price because of the somewhat heretical nature of the design and there you have it.” He trailed his fingers down from the hollow of her throat to the flawless white skin between her breasts and then leaned forward and pressed a kiss there.

She lifted one hand and stroked her fingers through his hair. “Did it produce the reaction you’d hoped for?” She asked.

“After the initial shouting and exclamations of horror? Not at all. My parents simply pretended it had never happened. Short of dropping my trousers at court events, I could hardly show it off, and even I wasn’t quite that outrageous.” He moved his mouth to the soft swell of her breast. 

Her fingers briefly tightened in his hair. “And your … partners? Word never spread of it? They didn’t talk?” 

“They may have, but there were so many outrageous and scandalous tales of my exploits in those days I don’t think anyone was entirely certain what was fact and what was fiction.” He brushed his lips over her nipple and smiled when it sprang to attention. Unable to help himself he closed his mouth over it and suckled gently, feeling her small shiver. 

“Do you regret doing it?” She asked, her voice a bit more breathless than it had been a moment before. She let her hand slide over the muscles of his shoulder and upper arm. 

He raised his head and straightened up so he was leaning on his elbow once again. “For a time I did, but strangely it’s come to be something of a comfort to me.” 

“A comfort?” She asked, not understanding.

“Yes.” He tried to think of how to put it. “It serves as a reminder that no matter how lost I might be there’s always a place of shelter for me.” When he glanced at her to see if she’d understood what he was trying to say, her expression was grave.

“You’ll miss it won’t you? The Chantry, I mean.” She asked. 

He bent and kissed the small worried wrinkle between her brows. “I’ll always treasure the time I spent there, but no, I won’t miss it. There’s no need to: the Chantry will always be there for me, it’s only my role that’s changed.” He smoothed her hair back from her face. “Now I have you, Anabel.” He told her softly. “Here, with you, this is where I belong now.” Putting his hands on her hips he rolled to his back, bringing her with him, moving one hand to her thigh and settling her so she was straddling him. He couldn’t help admiring just how perfect she looked like that, her red hair wild and streaming around her, offering tantalizing glimpses through her curls of that perfect white skin. 

She twined her fingers through his and started to speak, and then in the growing morning light she got her first good look at his face. “Sebastian your cheek!” She exclaimed.

There was a bruise along the ridge of that perfect cheekbone, a dark bluish purple bruise that looked almost black. A bruise from when she’d thrown the inkwell at him. She stared at it, horrified.

“It’s all right.” He assured her. He wondered just how bad it was to have her looking like that.

She shook her head in denial. “No, it isn’t.” There were tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

Moving one hand low on her back he sat up so they were face to face and careful brushed her hair back over her shoulders so he could see her clearly. “I deserved worse.” He told her quietly. 

He sounded so convinced of it that she could only gape at him. She dropped her eyes and when she spoke her voice was low. “I wanted to hurt you, actually physically hurt you. I wanted to see you in pain. I would have thrown that chair if you hadn’t stopped me.” She gave a small shiver. 

With a gentle hand he turned her face so she was looking at him again. “You were very angry and very hurt, and you had every right to be. You still have every right to be.“ 

She looked away again so she didn’t have to see those earnest blue eyes, or look at that bruise. That rage, wanting to hurt someone, punish someone who’d hurt you, that wasn’t a new feeling. But she’d never felt it for someone she loved. She’d never thought she could feel that way for someone she loved. She’d wanted to hurt him as badly as he’d hurt her. Needed to hurt him. “I don’t want to think about that.” She started to climb off of him, but his hands on her hips stopped her.

“Ana.”

“I don’t.” She insisted. 

“Pretending I didn’t do what I did is just another form of lying about it.” He said after a moment. His voice was gentle. 

She didn’t say anything for a moment and then she reached for his hands again. “I don’t like that I felt like that. I know you didn’t do it to hurt me. You did it because you didn’t want to lose me.” She knew that was the truth of it. It still hurt. And perhaps a part of her was still angry. 

He could see the conflict on her face, he knew that she was still upset, but she was just as upset at how she’d lashed out at him, and in spite of that she was willing to accept his explanation, and forgive him. He didn’t deserve her. “I was muddled and stubborn and foolishly believed that only I could keep everyone safe.”

To his surprise a small smiled suddenly curved her lips and she finally looked at him again. “You mean you behaved like I do on most days.” 

He returned the smile but shook his head. “No. You would never have lied about it.” 

The smile faded away. “No. I wouldn’t have.” A part of her still couldn’t quite grasp that Sebastian had. “I thought you were perfect.” She said. 

“I warned you I wasn’t.” 

“You did.” She agreed. “But I thought you were being perfectly modest when you said that.” She leaned forward and kissed the bruised cheek gently. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to expect that of you.”

She was apologizing “Oh, Ana. You’ve nothing to be sorry about.” He rested his forehead against hers.

She slipped her arms around his neck. “Would it sound strange if I said that it’s a bit of a relief actually to discover you’re not perfect?”

He stroked her back with the palm of his hand. “No stranger than my saying I’m glad you’ve finally believed me, that you’ve discovered I have ordinary feet of clay, planted quite firmly on the ground.” 

“I always thought that was the strangest expression.” She said. “But I rather like your clay feet, Sebastian Vael. It makes you seem more real.”

“I’m all too real as my actions over the last few months have shown you. I’m so sorry, Ana. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I promise.” 

He would share that life with her. In spite of everything the realization sent a thrill of happiness through her. She and Sebastian would have a true marriage now with everything that entailed.

Dreams and wishes did come true, even in Kirkwall. “Just love me.” She told him simply. “Trust that I love you. And promise to be truthful.” 

“I do. And I will. “ He ran his hands over her back and pulled her closer, kissing her as he pulled her hair back from her face, gathering it into a ponytail behind her and kissing her again. His eyes ran over what he’d uncovered. “Maker’s breath, you’re beautiful.” His body couldn’t help but respond, and to his delight he saw her dimple appear at the corner of her mouth as she rotated her hips against him and drew a shuddering breath in. 

When she saw him watching her, her smile deepened. “I like doing that.” She told him. “It feels nice.”

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a teasing smile. “Nice?”

The dimple deepened. “Very nice.” She corrected. “Beyond nice.” As if to show him she rubbed against him again. He could feel the wetness of her arousal slick against him and this time he was the one to draw a shaky breath. 

“Yes.” He agreed. “Very nice.” He leaned forward and kissed her again. “Are you sore?” This would be the third time in barely six hours and she’d been a virgin.

“No.” She assured him. She ran her tongue along his lips, and nibbled gently at them.

He couldn’t help smiling. “Are you lying?” 

“Yes.” She said still kissing him. “Make love to me anyway.” She twined her arms around his neck. 

“I shouldn’t.” He murmured as his mouth travelled to her throat.

She arched her head back. “I’ve always held that you should do something you’re not supposed to at least once a week.”

“Only once a week?” Sebastian asked. He ran his hand up her side to cup one breast and she shivered. “I could have sworn you did so more often than that.”

She laughed, that throaty giggle that he loved so much and he realized it was the first time he’d heard it since she’d discovered his deceptions. Since she’d forgiven them. “Tell me what you want, Ana.” He whispered hoarsely against her neck. “Tell me how you want to be pleased.” He pulled back so he could see her face. “Tell me so I can give it to you.”

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, staring at him for a moment before she released it. She started to speak and then hesitated. Her cheeks turned pink.

She had thought of something he was certain of it. 

“Tell me what you want, Ana.” He coaxed. “Whatever you want.” 

Her answer, when it came, surprised him.

Her voice was so low he had to strain to hear it. “I want you to be…not gentle.” She looked up at him with an expression he could only describe as hopeful.

He was unprepared for the rush of pure lust her words and that look caused. A slow smile curved his lips. “I can do that.” He told her.

 

 

Orana made her way up the stairs to Mistress Hawke’s bedroom carrying a tray laden with all of the Mistress’ favorite foods and as she passed the Master’s door she scowled. He could fend for himself this morning as far as she was concerned. 

She wasn’t certain exactly what had happened last night at the party but she did know that the Mistress Hawke had been badly hurt, that some secret had come out and that it was the Master’s fault. She had heard her mistress crying, crying as if her heart had been broken, and shouting, and had heard things crashing as they were thrown, before Bodahn had whisked them all away to their rooms, say it didn’t concern them, that they were to go about their business the same as they always did. 

So she would bringing the mistress her breakfast and wake her the way she did every morning. She balanced the tray carefully in one hand as she opened the door, backing into the room and closing it before turning around to face the bed. “Good Morning, Mistress…” She started to say.

She let out a squeal of surprise and dropped the tray which crashed to the ground.

Two heads turned to look at her.

Or to be precise one head lifted up, and one tilted back upside down – Mistress Hawke’s head, hanging over the foot of the bed, her hair streaming down almost to the floor. Her wrists were pinned on either side of her head by the Master’s hands and one of her legs was resting on his shoulder.

They were naked. They were…

“Oh!” She squealed again and turned around groping for the door handle. “I’m sorry!” She almost slipped on the contents of the spilled tray, and instinctively bent to clean it up.

“Orana.” 

The Master must have tried to get out of the bed to help her because she heard the Mistress almost snarl and say “Don’t you dare stop.” And then she must have done something because they both groaned or moaned in a way that reminded Orana of what they were doing, of what was happening and that bed and she squealed again and dropped the broken coffee mug that she’d started to pick up and fled from the room almost slamming the door behind her.

She stood there a moment her eyes wide. She heard the Master’s voice speaking low, and a low laugh from the Mistress and then those other sounds again and she quickly ran down the stairs. She was halfway down them before her brain had properly processed just what she had seen meant and by the time she reached the bottom she was almost laughing with delight. She hurried back to the kitchen to make some more food. After what she’d seen she had no doubt they’d be hungry… later.

 

Sebastian slammed into her. The leg that had been resting on his shoulder slipped, landing in the crook of his elbow. He paused and shifted back onto his heels, his hands moving to her hips, pulling her with him and he immediately resumed driving into her. 

_I want you to be … not gentle_. She’d said that and he’d taken her at her word, and Dear Maker it had been perfect, was perfect. Their bodies were slick with sweat now, both of them, and she was flushed with passion, not just her cheeks but down her throat and her chest. Sebastian redoubled his efforts. She’d already come once and he wanted her to come again before he did. She arched against him and rotated her hips in his hands, reaching for, straining for that release. He couldn't take his eye from her as he thrust into her, and he was overwhelmed by how beautiful she was like this. Her eyes met his and they were almost desperate with need. 

“I want…” She managed to gasp out, but instead of finishing the sentence she arched back and moaned. 

He knew what she wanted. “Touch yourself, Ana. Touch yourself the way you would have that night if I hadn’t come in.” He urged. 

She didn’t even hesitate, just reached between her legs unerringly finding that bundle of nerves and moving her finger firmly over it, letting out a moan of pleasure that made him throb inside her. 

He continued thrusting, watching that finger, making note of how she touched herself, the speed and the pressure. “So beautiful.” He muttered, and he began to move faster, pushing so deeply inside her that he brushed against backs of her fingers as she touched herself, and then she was crying out and arching up against him, and he could feel her tightening around him in small spasms that gripped him, and that alone was enough to bring him over the edge and this time he cried out as well. 

When he could breathe again he pulled out of her and collapsed onto his back beside her, flinging his arm over his eyes, waiting for his heartbeat to return to normal. “I will never be able to look Orana in the face again.” He groaned. 

Anabel, who hadn’t moved up to this point, started laughing and he couldn’t help smiling at the sound.

She rolled over and pressed close to him, resting her chin on his chest. “Why Sebastian Vael, are you actually embarrassed? Where is that wild uninhibited rogue who ravished me mercilessly all night long?”

He didn’t open his eyes, but trailed a hand down her hip and pinched her behind. She squealed in protest. “Show some respect, Mistress Vael, lest your husband take it upon himself to teach you some manners.” 

She settled against him, nuzzling her face into his side. “I have perfectly lovely manners. I get invited to all the best parties.” 

“Mmm.” He agreed. He reached out feeling for the sheet and when he found it pulled it over the both of them. He was too exhausted to even get a pillow for them and Anabel didn’t seem to have any more energy than he did. He continued to caress her hip. “I didn’t hurt you?” He asked.

She smiled against his skin. “No. It was perfect. I’m beginning to see that this whole lovemaking thing has all sorts of possibilities.”

He smiled but didn’t open his eyes. “It does indeed.” He could feel himself beginning to drift off. 

She burrowed against his side, her small hand toying with the hair on his chest. “Sebastian?” She said quietly.

“Quiet, woman. I need sleep.” He brought his hand up to stroke her hair. 

“I love you.” 

He pulled her closer and pressed a kiss on top of her head. “I love you too, Anabel Vael.” 

 

By the time Sebastian awoke again the sun was streaming into the room. It must be close to noon now. He tried to remember the last time he’d been abed at this time of day. He tried to remember when the last time he’d been abed at this hour and not had a hangover and gave it up as a lost cause. He turned to look at Anabel and decided that this was a far better reason to lounge about. 

She was sprawled out on her stomach beside him, still deeply asleep. She’d kicked off the sheet while she slept and he admired the sight of her like that, her pale skin almost glowing against the dark blue sheets and her now tangled red hair spread out around her. He stroked her cheek softly and she didn’t even stir. He’d exhausted her. He couldn’t help a pleased smile. 

The things he was going to teach her…

He lifted his head at the sound of voices coming from downstairs. He slipped out of the bed pausing only to pull the sheet up over her before grabbing his trousers and slipping into them. The voices got louder, and he recognized them now; Isabela demanding to see Hawke, Orana trying valiantly to keep her from the bedroom. He hurried to the door, grabbing his shirt as he did. He closed the door quietly behind him and hurried to the staircase slipping on his shirt as he walked, but not bothering to fasten it. 

“Isabela.” He called out. 

She was at the bottom of the stairs, where Orana was making a valiant attempt to prevent her going any further. Fenris was a few steps behind, looking more than a little uncomfortable.

“It’s all right Orana. I’ll take care of this.” Sebastian told the elf.

Orana blushed and bobbed a curtsy before hurrying back to the kitchen.

Sebastian continued down the stairs in a leisurely fashion. 

Isabela eye him suspiciously taking in every inch of him from his rumpled hair to his open shirt to his bare feet. Her eyes paused on the bruise on his cheekbone. 

“Nice shiner. Did Hawke do that?” She asked with a smirk.

Sebastian ignored the smirk. “I think we can all agree it was the least I deserved.”

Isabela gave him a suspicious look but didn’t disagree. “Where’s Hawke.” She demanded.

“My wife,” Sebastian said, carefully emphasizing the word. “Is still abed. We had a somewhat…active evening after our guests departed.” Try as he might he couldn’t help the grin that came to his face. 

Isabela blinked in surprise. She’d never seen a smile like that on Sebastian’s face: boyish, mischievous, suggestive -- downright naughty and just the tiniest bit smug. The tales of his misspent youth didn’t seem so farfetched when you saw that smile. “Well, well, well.” She said. “And what’s happened to that idiotic vow of celibacy?”

Sebastian didn’t even hesitate. “I got a better offer.” He told her. His smile deepened and his eyes were positively twinkling.

Isabela found herself smiling right back at him, and for just a moment she found herself wishing she really had met him when he was younger. Ah well. He was Hawke’s now, totally and irrevocably. If she were perfectly honest he had been from the start, just as Hawke had been his. “You screw up like that again and you’ll have more than just a black eye.” She informed him.

Before he had a chance to respond, a voice called down from the second floor railing. “Oh look, time to change the locks again.” All three of them looked up to see Hawke standing there.

If by some chance Isabela hadn’t understood the implication of Sebastian’s earlier words, Anabel’s appearance left no doubt as how she and Sebastian had spent the night. Her hair was wild, and tumbling around her. She was wearing only the dark blue sheet from the bed, wrapped carelessly around her. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips full and bruised, her eyes sparkled and she had a smile on her face that made Isabela laugh and clap her hands in glee. 

“Look at you Hawke! All rumpled and well used!”

Hawke didn’t answer her, but ran swiftly down the stairs, stopping one step short of the bottom where Sebastian stood. “Good Morning, husband.” She murmured. Even standing on the step above him she still had to go on her toes to kiss him.

Sebastian slipped his arms around her and his eyes ran over her face. “Good Morning, wife.” He replied. His hands slipped around her, and he kissed her back, but the light kiss he intended deepened into something more passionate. His fists knotted into the sheet pulling her closer, knowing full well how inappropriate his behavior was with guests in the house and he found he didn’t care in the slightest. There was just Anabel, the feel of her and taste of her, the heat of her in his arms.

“My, my.“ Said Isabela. “Who would have thought it?” She watched with growing interest as the once chaste prince slid his hands beneath his wife’s bottom and with something that might very well be described as a growl picked her up. Hawke’s bare legs wrapped around Sebastian’s hips and Isabela turned to Fenris. “Do you think if we’re quiet they’ll do it right here?” she asked, sounding absolutely delighted at the possibility.

Fenris let out a sound that could have been a laugh or an uncomfortable cough, and it was that which made Anabel raise her head and look at them over Sebastian’s shoulder with a grin on her face.

“Go away, Isabela. I’m taking my husband back to bed.” She caught Fenris’ eye and gave him an apologetic smile. 

He returned the smile with a salute of his hand before taking Isabela by the elbow and steering her towards the door.

“You sure I can’t watch? Give some pointers?” Isabela called out over her shoulder.

“Oddly enough we seem to be doing quite well all on our own.” Hawke informed her.

“Join in?” 

“Goodbye Isabela.” Anabel replied, already mesmerized by the fire in Sebastian’s blue eyes. She slipped her arms around his neck and the sheet slipped down, the only thing still holding it in place Sebastian’s arm at her lower back. She leaned in to kiss him again and her breasts brushed against his bare chest. Not breaking the kiss Sebastian began walking slowly up the stairs. He dimly heard Isabela and Fenris leaving, and the door close behind them. 

Only then did he pull his head away. “We’re appalling bad hosts, the both of us.” He informed her as he began walking up the stairs.

“Mmm. I agree.” She ran her tongue along his throat and then bit down lightly. “We should be punished. Sent straight to our bed for the rest of the day.” 

“Just the one day?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

She pretended to give it some thought. “And the night. Perhaps tomorrow?” She made it a question. 

“And the next day as well.” Sebastian agreed as he carried her back into the bedroom. “It’s no more than we both deserve.” 

 

 

It was late afternoon by the time they both admitted to being sore and decided that a bath in Anabel’s luxurious tub would be just the solution.

Anabel watched from the bath as Sebastian returned from the bedroom with a tray holding the strawberries and champagne that Orana had included with the meal she’d left on a tray outside the door. He placed them carefully by the side of the tub and filled a single glass, handing it to her before shrugging out of the robe he’d fetched from his room earlier.

“How often do you have to make love before you can be considered truly debauched?” She asked him.

He pretended to consider the question. “I suspect there are several factors involved. What’s the timeframe? Exactly what acts were performed? What was the level of enthusiasm?” He climbed into the tub behind her. “Is this something that you’re concerned about?” 

She settled back against him, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I was just curious. It hasn’t even been twenty four hours and we’ve already made love four times. I wasn’t quite sure if there was a line we had to worry about crossing."

He smiled as he took the champagne glass from her hands and took a sip before placing it by the edge of the tub. “No, there’s no line. At least none we need worry about.” He reached beneath the water and ran his hands from her waist to her breasts, teasing the nipples into hard points.

Her voice when she spoke was a little breathier than before. “I looked it up once. Debauched I mean. _To be seduced from chastity_.” She quoted. “So technically once could say we’ve both been debauched in the last twenty-four hours.” She turned in his arms and straddled him reaching over his shoulder for one of the strawberries and holding it up for him to take a bite. When he had, she leaned forward and kissed him before popping the rest of it into her mouth. “But I think that definition lets us off a little too easily, don’t you?” She said when she’d swallowed it.

“In what way?” 

“It doesn’t leave us anything to strive for.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “I’m not certain debauchery is exactly a goal we should be seeking.” He said with a teasing smile.

“Perhaps not debauchery.” She admitted. She found his hands and twined her fingers through his, looking suddenly earnest. “I want you to show me things, Sebastian. All those things you used to enjoy. All the things you’ve missed. I can’t guarantee that I’ll like all of them but I want you to teach me. Teach me everything. Show me everything.” She tilted her head. “Will you do that?”

Her expression there was so sincere and the statement so heartfelt that there nothing lascivious or lewd about it. Anabel loved him and for her their physical relationship was just an extension of that love. There would be no need to hold back, no need to keep his desires secret or to feel any shame about them. He could only stare at her before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close, resting his head against her chest and marveling that he could have found her, marveling at what their life together would be, and offering a prayer of thanks that in spite of everything he’d done he’d been granted this chance, that he’d been given this gift that was Anabel Hawke.

She reached around to cradle his head against her and after a moment commented. “I’m not certain if this is a yes or a no.”

He tilted his head back to look at her. “Yes.” He told her. “I will show you everything.”

 

 

“It occurs to me that I haven’t worn smallclothes for almost three days.” Anabel pointed out two days later. They were lying in the ancestral bed (Still? Again?). Except for brief forays into the kitchen and the garden once (where they’d discovered that wrought iron chairs were not in the least conducive to comfortable lovemaking), they’d barely left it. 

“I’m failing to see a problem with this.” Sebastian said with a smile. His fingers trailed over the bare skin of her hip.

She propped herself up, leaning her chin on his chest. “It seems a waste. I’ve awfully nice underthings.”

“I’m aware of that. You flash them about with rather alarming nonchalance.”

She giggled, and was it his imagination or was that giggle even throatier and dirtier that it had been before? “It might be fun to let me wear some of them. And perhaps even a dress as well.”

“Why would I want that?” 

She pretended to give it some thought. “It might be enjoyable for you to imagine what’s underneath them and then get to see if you’re right? I used to think about that all the time, didn’t you?”

“Among other things.” He agreed dryly. When he glanced down at her she had a pleased smile on her face.

“What kind of other things?” She asked eagerly. 

“I’ve had a recurring fantasy about your hair ribbons for years now.” He informed her. 

She looked utterly perplexed. “My hair ribbons? What could you possibly do with my …” Her voice trailed off.

He gave her a knowing smile. 

Her eyes widened. “Oh. Oh my.” She lay there for a moment wondering exactly what it was he’d fantasized using them for.

_Blindfolds?_

_Tying her up?_

_Tying her to the bed?_

She ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips. If she asked he would just tease her. He wouldn’t answer, not right away. 

Of course there might be an easier way to find out, she realized. She rolled out of bed suddenly, running over to one of the wardrobes, flinging the door open and pulling out one of the drawers.

“Anabel?” Sebastian propped himself up on one elbow wondering what she was doing. 

She returned with a virtual armful of ribbons of almost every color and fabric one could think of, dropping a trail of them in her wake, and tossed them on top of him with a challenging smile.

He couldn’t help laughing as he pushed them aside and then his fingers fell on one of scarlet satin, wider and longer than the rest. His smile vanished as he held it up and then pulled it slowly through his fingers giving it a carefully appraising look. 

And the next thing she knew he’d grabbed her by the arm and pulled her onto the bed, straddling her so she couldn’t get away, tying one end of the ribbon securely around her wrist as she squirmed and laughed and made noises of protest that they both knew she didn’t mean….

 

 

By the fifth day, they finally admitted it was time to return to the real world. Sebastian needed to go to the Chantry, both to give his confession to Elthina and discuss his future plans. And Anabel…

“I need to go down to the clinic and speak with Anders.” She told him, shrugging into the jacket of her leather armor and beginning to buckle it.

Sebastian couldn’t help the frown that came to his face. 

She’d known he wouldn’t like it. “I have to. I should have done it before this. I need to see if that whole ridiculous episode was just alcohol or something more.”

Of course it had been something more. Only Anabel could be quite so willfully oblivious to the man’s feelings for her, but asking her not to go would only have the opposite effect. 

“And if it was something more?” Sebastian asked quietly.

She sighed. “Then I need to talk it through with him and move past it.”

Sebastian somehow doubted it would be that easy. He bent and kissed her firmly on the lips. “Be careful.” He told her. “I’ll be back by lunch.”

 

Anders looked up when she walked into the deserted clinic carrying a basket of supplies. Looked up, saw her, and then turned away, walking into the storage room at the back.

 _Shit_. She thought. She should have come down here sooner. She followed him back there putting the basket down just inside the room. His back was to the door as he straightened up the already neat shelves. He didn’t speak. He didn’t turn around.

She knew he knew she was there.

“So.” She said casually. “Did I ever tell you about the time I got so drunk I climbed to the top of the vhenadahl tree in the alienage and refused to come down?” 

He didn’t turn around. He didn’t even stop what he was doing. It was as if she hadn’t spoken.

“What about the time I stripped down to what could only very loosely be described as a shirt and did a belly dance in the middle of The Hanged Man?” Her light-hearted tone was a little more forced now. 

“I think what happened the other night went a little beyond drunken shenanigans, don’t you?” He finally turned to face her. He had a bruise of his own along his jaw from where Sebastian had hit him, and his lip was split as well. 

She frowned as she walked up to him. “Why didn’t you heal that?” She asked, reaching up to touch him.

He pulled back from her touch. 

She let her hand fall to her side, beginning to get annoyed. “Is there a reason that you’re mad at me? Because quite honestly if anyone has the right to be I think it’s probably me.” 

“Is that so?” He sneered.

“Yes.” She said, glaring at him. “Why on Thedas are you being so pissy?” 

“Did Isabela have it right?” He demanded.

She looked confused by the question. “Did Isabela have what right?”

“Are you fucking him now?” He’d finally ventured up to see Varric, to see if he’d heard anything about what had happened, to see how she was after his disastrous bungling of things, convinced she must be heartbroken, wanting to comfort her but not know if she even wanted to see him and instead had walked in on Isabela rapturously recounting a tale of Hawke and that lying hypocritical chantry prig practically having sex on her staircase. He’d walked out of Varric’s suite without a word.

Hawke cringed at his words, but almost instantly recovered. “Am I having sex with my husband you mean? Yes.” 

He could only stare at her in disbelief. “You’ve forgiven him.” It wasn’t a question.

She lifted her chin almost defiantly. “Yes.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Unbelievable.” He muttered under his breath before looking up at her again. “After everything you learned. You know, Hawke, I never thought you were a fool, not until right now.” 

“It’s not like that. “ She insisted wondering why she felt she had to justify it to him. “I was furious with him. I’m still angry. Sebastian asked me to have faith in him." She looked up at Anders and her gaze was steady. "And I do.”

“Faith.” He repeated flatly. “You even sound like him.“ He pushed past her walking into the main part of the clinic. “Why are you here, Hawke?” He asked as she stormed out after him. 

“Fuck Anders, I don’t know. I wanted to make sure you were all right. Maker knows why.” She snapped. 

“And you’ve seen I’m fine. Was there anything else you needed?” He stopped so abruptly she ran into him and nearly lost her balance. Only his arm on her elbow kept her upright. 

He’d reached out without thinking. He dropped her arm immediately but her face was already softening.

“I need my friend back.” She told him and her voice was almost wistful. All trace of her anger was gone. 

As if it were anywhere close to that simple. “Maker’s Ass, Hawke are you truly this naïve?” He wasn’t quite shouting but it was close. “Do you think after the other night, after what you and he have been…. Do you honestly think we can just go back to the way things were before?” 

“Yes.” She said stubbornly. “If we both want to…”

He cut her off. “And what if we don’t both want to?” 

She flinched as if he’d hit her. “Oh.” She finally said. She wanted to scream and yell at him, to say how dare you, how dare you throw that friendship away, how dare you not be willing to work at it, to fight for it? “Oh.” She repeated stupidly. She blinked her eyes rapidly. She wasn’t going to cry. 

He turned away from her pretending he hadn’t seen the tears. “You should go.” 

“I don’t want to.” She said, in a small voice. If she left now, if she left like this, something would have broken between them, something even more irreparable than what had happened the other night. She took a step toward him and touched his arm gently. “Anders.”

“Just go, Hawke.” She could hear the strain in his voice.

“I don’t…” She started to say again.

He whirled around and it was Justice, shining out of him. 

She hadn’t felt him at all; the transition had been that quick.

“ **Go. Anders has no need of you.** ” 

Her heart was pounding. “Let me talk to Anders.” She demanded.

He drew himself up, towering over her the lights flashing under his skin so brightly she could barely look at him. “ **I am Anders**.” 

And for the first time she believed that it might be true.

And for the first time, instead of confronting him or arguing, she simply left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	30. Returning to the Real World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Anabel's visit to Anders in his clinic, and Sebastian's trip to the Chantry to discuss what's happened with Elthina they both realize that the idyllic days of making love and ignoring the real world have come to an end.

The confession to Elthina had been even more difficult than Sebastian had expected.

At his request it had been conducted formally: he and Elthina had retreated to one of the elaborately carved confessionals that lined the eastern wall of the Chantry. They’d each gone in their separate doors and taken their seats, he on one side of the screen, she on the other. Sebastian had thought it might be easier if he didn’t have to see her face, if he didn’t have to see the disappointment he had no doubt would be there. 

Still, when the moment came, he had sat there, paralyzed, unable to think how to start.

“You wish to confess, my son?” Elthina had prompted. Her voice had been gentle, affectionate, and concerned. 

And still it took him two tries before he could get the words out. “I lied.” He’d finally said. “I’ve been lying for almost a year now. To Anabel, to you, to everyone. I’ve been living a lie.” 

And then it began pouring out, everything, everything he’d done, everything he’d said. Everything he hadn’t said. 

After just moments the Grand Cleric had told him to stop. There was total silence and then he heard the door to her side of the confessional open, heard her leave it and then his own door had been yanked opened.

Sebastian had never seen Elthina look so grim, or so disappointed, not even when he’d first joined the Chantry and had continued to sneak away to taverns and brothels to drink and to whore at every opportunity.

She’d stood there, looking down at him and then said tersely. “We’ll continue this in my office.” Without another word she’d turned and walked away and he had found himself in the undignified position of scrambling after her. 

As they’d passed through her antechamber she’d informed Sister Alma they weren’t to be disturbed. They’d gone into her office; she closed the door and told him to take a seat. 

And then it had begun.

It wasn’t so much a confession as a dissection. The Grand Cleric was merciless, forcing him to acknowledge every mistake he’d made, every lie, every abuse of trust, every deception, every manipulation. By the time she was done he felt lower than a worm, and about as worthy.

It was almost midday when, still unsmiling, she’d given him his penance and dismissed him. 

As he was leaving Elthina stopped him, calling him by name for the first time since the confession had begun. “Sebastian.”

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob and turned back to her. She was writing something. She finished, folded it, and as she held the sealing wax to a flame, her grey eyes fixed on him.

He’d never realized just how hard those eyes could be. 

When she spoke her voice was just as hard, and just as cold. “I hope you realize just how fortunate you are in your choice of wife. There aren’t many who would so readily forgive what you did, and fewer still who would be willing to give you a second chance. Anabel has a kind and generous heart, and she loves you as few people in this world are ever lucky enough to be loved.” She let the red sealing wax drip onto the letter she’d written.

“I do realize it.” Sebastian said. “I was a fool not to have trusted in that love.” 

“Yes.” Elthina agreed without hesitation. “You were.”

She pressed her ring into the wax sealing the letter, before looking over at him again. “I want you to keep something in mind as you and Anabel move forward: as forgiving as she has been, there is no doubt in my mind that you have wounded her deeply, Sebastian, and wounds like that take time to heal. Occasionally they reopen. Remember that and if or when it happens remember just how grievously you abused her trust. I expect you to do everything in your power to help her heal. It’s the very least she deserves from you.” 

He could only answer. “I will, Grand Cleric.”

She stared at him for a moment longer, her expression unreadable, before giving a small nod and holding out the note she’d just written. “This is for Anabel. Please be so good as to give it to her.”

It was only then that he realized that for the duration of his confession Elthina had referred to Anabel, by her first name, not by her surname as she normally did, and he knew it had been done on purpose; it wasn’t Hawke, the mercenary, the nobleman, or the Champion that he had hurt. It was Anabel, the woman, his wife, the one he purported to love. Anabel, who was far more vulnerable than most people knew. 

He did know. He knew, and he’d taken full advantage of it. 

Filled with self-loathing, he returned and took the note from the Grand Cleric, wanting to ask what was in it but knowing he had no right to, and would receive no answer if he did.

“You may go.” Elthina said, and turned her attention back to the papers on her desk.

Her words seemed to echo in his head as he left the Chantry, descending the long flight of stairs and crossing the Plaza towards the Amell mansion.

_…how grievously you abused her trust…_

_You’ve wounded her deeply…_

_Not many would have forgiven what you’ve done…._

Elthina had said nothing Sebastian hadn’t told himself hourly since his sins had been discovered and indeed before that, but hearing her say it brought all his insecurities rushing back and he found himself walking faster. 

It was the first time he and Anabel been apart in five days. What if being away from him had made her rethink her decision to forgive him? What if she’d changed her mind? What if her talk with Anders had changed her mind? 

What if she’d come to her senses? 

He was almost running by the time he reached the front door, and he called out her name as soon as he stepped inside. 

“Anabel?” 

He’d not even reached the main room when she came hurtling at him, throwing herself into his arms, clinging to him as if she’d never let him go.

 _Oh, thank the Maker_. His arms went automatically around her and he lifted her off the floor holding her close. This was all he needed. Just this. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, breathing her in. “I missed you.” He was surprised at how desperate his voice sounded.

Her arms tightened around his neck and her voice was muffled when she spoke. “I missed you too. Going back to the real world was a horrible, horrible idea. Let’s never do that again.” Her voice cracked on the last word. She seemed as upset as he, if not more so.

Sebastian tried to pull back to look at her but she wouldn’t relax her hold enough for him to do so.

“No. Not yet.” She said.

“All right.” He agreed. “Not yet.” 

Still holding her walked into the main room and sank down on the couch shifting her so she was sitting on his lap. He continued to hold her, stroking her back, realizing that she’d been home long enough to change from the leathers she’d worn earlier, into a gauzy silk dress in a pale blue so light a color that is was almost white. She’d let her hair out of the neat twist it had been and rearranged It into a loose braided hairstyle that she’d woven an embroidered silk ribbon through. 

She’d been home long enough to make all those changes and she was still this upset. What on Thedas had Anders said to her?”

“Tell me what happened.” He said gently. 

She let out a soft sigh and turned her head, leaning it against his shoulder. “I’m an idiot apparently. I went down there feeling oh so magnanimous and benevolent, full of forgiveness and understanding and good intentions.” She tilted her head to look up at him. “As it turns out Anders isn’t the least bit interested in my benevolence or my forgiveness. Quite the opposite.” She blinked rapidly and Sebastian realized she was close to tears. 

He stroked her hair back from her face looking at her carefully. “He didn’t hurt you?” He asked. 

“No, of course not.” She said automatically, but then she hesitated and for an instant she was uncertain: if she hadn’t left when Justice had ordered her to, would he have forced her out? Would he have hurt her? No. She refused to believe that. “No.” She repeated, more emphatically. “But he’s very angry. I wasn’t prepared for that.”

“Did he offer a reason?” Sebastian would have though he would be the focus of the man’s ire, not Anabel. There must be more to it.

She hid her face in his chest. “He knows we’re having sex.” Her voice was muffled. “He takes issue with the decision.”

“Ah.” Sebastian stroked her hair gently. Yes, that would explain it. “I presume we have Isabela to thank for that?” 

Anabel couldn’t help a small laugh. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Only Isabela or Varric would have been quite so public with so a private matter. Varric considers Anders a friend and being aware of the situation he wouldn’t wish to cause him pain. That leaves Isabela. What did Anders say?” 

Anabel twined her fingers through his and when she finally spoke her voice was so low that Sebastian had to strain to hear it. 

“He told me I’m a fool and that he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore. “ There was ache in her throat and her eyes were stinging with tears again. She turned her face into Sebastian’s neck again.

His arms tightened around her, holding her securely. “I’m sorry.” He said after a moment, and he was sorry that what Anders had done had hurt her. He was less sorry if it meant they would be seeing less of him.

She sighed. “Yes. I’m sorry too. Sorry that he feels that way. Sorry that he doesn’t trust my judgment. Sorry that he doesn’t feel our friendship is worth fighting for.” There was a lump in her throat and she couldn’t say more, not without sobbing. 

_I never thought you were a fool not until right now._

She closed her eyes. Anders was wrong: he had to be. This, Sebastian, working things out with him, having a life with him, was so worth fighting for, even after what he had done, even if it made her seem a fool. 

She burrowed even closer, burying her face in the warm skin of Sebastian’s neck and inhaled. The doubts and fears that had been swirling wildly in her head since she’d left the clinic seemed to recede a bit as she breathed in that familiar scent: the herbs of his soap, and the leather of his armor. The smell of incense which had been growing fainter in the last few months was stronger today and that smell reminded her of what he’d been doing while she’d been with Anders. She hadn’t even asked him about it. 

Enough wallowing. She lifted her head and sat up straighter. “Perhaps we just need a break from each other. We’ve fought before and always managed to drift back into friendship.” She said resolutely. Remembering how she’d left the clinic with Justice’s voice ringing in her ears, it seemed a ridiculously optimistic statement. 

_I am Anders._

She couldn’t help a small shudder. She’d go see Varric later on or tomorrow to make certain he was keeping a close watch on Anders. She wondered briefly if she should write to Nate and let him know. Let the Wardens know…. No. She decided. Not yet. Surely there was no need for that yet.

“Anabel.” Sebastian reached out a hand and caressed her cheek. 

She looked up at him and smiled and then shifted suddenly so she was straddling his lap, on leg on either side of him. The movement hiked the skirt of her dress up to mid-thigh and his hands automatically went to the smooth soft skin that had been exposed. 

She leaned forward and kissed him softly. “Tell me how your meeting with Elthina went. Better than mine with Anders, I hope.”

“I’m not sure I could truthfully make that claim.” He said ruefully. “It was…thorough, shall we say. I don’t know if Elthina went quite so far as to actually call me a fool, but the sentiment was certainly there.” He ran his hands from her thighs, under the hem of her skirt to her hips, needing to touch her; it wasn’t even sexual need, at least not primarily, though a part of him took pleasure in the feel of her warm and soft beneath his hands. He leaned his forehead against hers and she slipped her arms around his neck. 

“So she’s angry as well.” 

Sebastian didn’t deny the charge and Anabel sighed.

“Anders is angry at me, Elthina’s angry at you. We definitely should have stayed in bed for another day.” 

“Elthina’s anger with me is entirely deserved. I don’t think the same can be said for Anders.” Sebastian pointed out. Reluctantly he pulled his hands from beneath her skirt, reaching into his pocket and taking out Elthina’s letter. He looked at it for a moment before holding it out to her. “She asked me to give you this.” 

Anabel stared at it warily. “What does it say?” 

“I don’t know. I think she’s worried about you. About the effect my actions might have had on you.” He told her.

She made no move to take it, nor did she speak. 

“Ana…” He placed it in her hands. 

She slid off of his lap, moving to the far corner of the couch sitting there stiffly, clutching the letter. She still didn’t open it.

He went to his knees on the floor in front of her. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” 

“I hate that everyone knows.” She said softly, not looking at him. “All our friends. Elthina. It’s ridiculous that after everything that’s happened I should be worrying about my wounded pride.” 

“You have every right to be angry with me.” 

“I’m not angry…” She started to say and then she stopped mid-sentence and caught her lip between her teeth. “I am.” She said after a moment, still staring at the letter in her hands. “When Anders called me a fool for forgiving you I was furious, not with him, but with you.” She finally looked at him, and he knew she was angry, but the hurt and the humiliation she felt were easier to see. 

That was entirely his doing. He opened his mouth to apologize again and she interrupted him before he could. 

“Don’t. Don’t tell me you’re sorry.” Her voice was low and now he could hear anger as well. “You put me in that position. You made me look like a fool in front of all my friends, everyone I love. You showed everyone that you didn’t trust me with the truth and a part of me is still so angry with you for that and I hate that I feel this way. I don’t want to be this angry with you. I’ve forgiven you, I have, and I just want to move on and forget it ever happened and I can’t.” 

“I don’t think it’s that simple, Ana.” 

She sighed again. “No, it wouldn’t be, would it?” She looked down at her hands and realized she’d crushed the letter in her fist. Before she could change her mind she slid her finger under the wax seal, breaking it, opened the letter, and began to read. 

_My Dear Hawke,_  
_Had I not insisted on secrecy when I made my offer to Sebastian, and had I not been willing to so cavalierly bend the rules, this would never have happened. I failed to consider that there was a third person involved, and that that person, you, should most certainly have been present when I made any proposition that involved you and for that I offer my most sincere apology._  
_That you were able to forgive Sebastian for what he did shows me yet again what a loving heart you have. There are few who would be as generous, few who, in spite of everything, would be able to remember the very great love Sebastian has for you. You were able to see that as misguided as his actions were, they were not motivated by greed, or a need for control, but by a fear of losing one or both of us._  
_I am sorry as well that so private a matter was revealed in front of so many (and I include myself in that number). I will understand entirely if you don’t wish to, but should you ever want to talk to someone about it, someone who also loves Sebastian, know that I am more than willing to do so. Anything we discuss will of course remain strictly between the two of us._  
_Sebastian was blessed by Andraste the day he met you._  
_Elthina_

That tight little ball of resentment and hurt pride inside her seemed to relax, not completely, but enough. She didn’t know if she would ever take Elthina up on her offer, but simply knowing she had the option, knowing that there was someone out there who agreed, yes Sebastian had been a selfish bastard, but that he was still worthy of being loved, helped more than she would have thought. She raised her eyes to look at him. 

He was watching her, holding himself almost rigid and the expression on his face… he was scared, scared and miserable, she realized. Scared of what Elthina might have said. Miserable at the thought he might have lost her love. 

She held out the note to him. 

“You don’t have to…” He started to say.

She smiled gently. “I know. I think you should read it.” 

He took the letter and read it once, and then a second time to make sure he had read it correctly.

_Someone who also loves Sebastian._

He bent forward holding his head in his hands wondering how, after everything he had done, how had the Maker seen fit to bless him with the love of two such extraordinary women? 

Anabel was beside him in an instant, kneeling in front of him, reaching up pulling his hands away, stroking his cheek. “It’s all right. We’ll be all right.” 

He could almost believe her. “I don’t deserve…” He started to say and she put her fingers in his lips. 

“No.” She told him. “I don’t want you to say that, not anymore. I’ve no doubt that at some point in our marriage I’ll be responsible for something equally awful. When I am we can call it even.” 

He pulled her to her feet and into his arms holding her close, probably too close. “Elthina is right. Andraste did bless me when she brought you into my life.” He told her.

The certainty with which Sebastian spoke of the Maker or Andraste hearing prayers or giving blessings always left her awed. Had it been Andraste who had brought them together? She didn’t know. It seemed unlikely, but on the off chance that Sebastian and Elthina were right and it had been, she offered a quick and silent thank you, even as she tightened her arms around her husband’s neck. “I love you, Sebastian Vael.” She whispered at his ear. “I want to be with you. That’s what matters. And if that makes others see me as a fool then so be it. It’s a small enough price to pay for a life with you.” That much she knew with absolute certainty.

He pulled back enough so he could look at her, smoothing stray curls that had escaped her braid out of her face. There was no doubt there, none at all. She loved him and he loved her and they would have that life he’d been dreaming about for so long. 

He leaned forward and kissed her, on the lips, on the cheeks, on her eyelids, and then on her mouth again, parting her lips and reveling in the taste and the feel of her, at the fact that he still could, that he hadn’t lost her. He moved his mouth to her jaw and then her neck, and then to that perfect pale skin revealed by the scoop neck of her silk gown. 

She let her head tilt back, arching into his touch but when he moved his hand and gently cupped her breast she suddenly put her hand his wrist, stopping him. “Wait.” She pulled her head back, and moved her hands to his shoulders which let her hold him at a slight distance. She’d almost let herself be carried away, and there was something else they needed to discuss. “I need to talk to you. And it’s something we probably should have talked about before now.” 

She looked so earnest. Despite the reassurances she had just given him, he felt his heart begin to pound uneasily. “Of course.” Whatever she wanted or needed from him, she would have it. No matter what it was. No matter the cost to him. 

She saw his expression and immediately leaned forward to kiss him again. “No, don’t look like that, it’s not anything like that.” She assured him with a smile. Her fingers ran through his hair and toyed with the ends where it brushed his collar.

Relief flooded through him. He slipped his arms around her back, pulling her closer. “Tell me, then.” He brushed his lips briefly against hers, and when he pulled away she followed, prolonging the kiss and he couldn’t help smiling against her mouth.

She straightened and gave him a reproachful look. “You’re distracting me.” She told him. 

“If I said I was sorry, it would be a lie. I rather like that I can distract you with just the lightest of kisses on that lush mouth of yours.” He cupped her face and brushed his thumb over her lips, and drew in his breath sharply when she caught the pad of it between her teeth and lightly bit down. “Now who’s distracting?” 

She didn’t answer, or rather she didn’t speak, but she did lean forward and kiss him this time, but it wasn’t gentle, and neither was his response. She looked almost dazed when they separated. 

“Sweet Andraste.” She muttered under her breath. “We’re impossible. No wonder we…” She took a deep breath to try and regain some semblance of control. “This is why we need to talk. I realized as I was leaving Anders clinic...” She looked up at him. “We’ve been having sex. A lot of sex.” 

He couldn’t keep from smiling. “We have, indeed.” He agreed. There was a glint of heat in his eyes that caused her cheeks to flame with sudden color and Sebastian smiled, delighted by it. “I can still make you blush.” He said brushing his finger against the soft warm skin. 

She rolled her eyes. “As if that’s ever been much of a challenge for you.” 

“You’re beautiful when you blush. Your skin looks like the inside of a sea shell.” He brushed his lips against her cheek, barely touching her but the soft exhalation of breath as he did so made her shiver. 

“Distracting.” She murmured.

He straightened up and let his hands fall to rest lightly on her hips. “My apologies.” He said with a twinkle in those blue eyes. “Go on.”

It took her a moment to remember where she’d left off. “We’ve been having a lot of sex, without…” She felt her cheeks grow even hotter. “Without using…” 

And suddenly Sebastian realized what she was trying to say, and it left him stunned.

They’d been having sex, a lot of sex, as Anabel had pointed out, without taking any sort of precautions. Without any discussion of the possible consequences of five days and five nights of unbridled and unprotected passion.

He’d wanted her for so long, for so many years, had come so close to losing her and then he hadn’t, and then, then he had all of her, to touch and taste and caress, to make love to, to savor. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that a child might be the result of that passion. He’d been solely focused on the two of them. On her. On discovering every inch of her, what pleased her, on showing her what pleased him, though Maker knew she’d shown remarkable talent in discovering that all on her own.

She’d been watching him carefully, had seen the emotions pass over his face. “You didn’t think of it either, did you?” 

“I didn’t.” He admitted. “It seems the height of irresponsibility.”

“Yes, it struck me as rather reckless as well. I was climbing up the ladder back from the clinic thinking of how the last time Anders thought we were having sex he’d brought me that tea and told me how to use it.” When Anders been concerned instead of furious. When he’d been a friend instead of…. She pushed the thought aside. “I suppose we were just caught up in it all.“ She gave him a somewhat sheepish look. “We probably should discuss it and we might as well do it now. We can add it to that rather large portion of real world concerns we’ve both been handed this morning.” 

“Yes.” Sebastian agreed, still unable to believe that he’d been so careless about it. “Yes.” He said resolutely. “We should.” 

They stared at each other for a moment, unsure of how to start, and it was Anabel who finally spoke first. 

“You know that I’ve always wanted children, but we never talked about your feelings on the subject. Do you?” She asked carefully. He’d never talked about it before their marriage, and then after the supposed vow of celibacy had kept the subject from arising. 

Sebastian seemed surprised she needed to even ask. “Yes. Sweet Andraste, yes.” 

The vehemence of his response put a delighted smile on her face. “Truly?” Her arms slid around his neck.

His smile told her his answer even before he spoke. “Oh Yes. A daughter with your curls. A son with your blue-green eyes. Twins with your irrepressible spirit.” 

She gave a laugh of pure happiness. “Be careful what you wish for.” She warned him leaning in and resting her forehead against his. “I’m glad it’s something you want too, only…” Her voice trailed off. The next part of what she wanted to say was more difficult and she struggled for a moment, wanting to get it right. “If it does turn out that there are results from what we’ve been doing the last few days, I’ll be thrilled. Over the moon. But if it doesn’t.” She caught her lip between her teeth. 

“If it doesn’t you’d prefer to wait to have children?” Sebastian asked gently.

She almost sagged with relief. “Yes. Not for long. A year or two perhaps. Given the current goings on in Kirkwall and my being the Champion and all the work I’ve been doing with Bran towards becoming the Viscount, and given the physical restrictions that a pregnancy would impose on me…” She laughed suddenly. “That’s not the real reason. I mean it’s part of it, but the simple truth is now that I finally have you, I’d like to have you all to myself for a bit.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I’m a selfish woman apparently. Would that be all right with you?”

It was the very same conclusion he’d reached almost a year ago. “It’s exactly what I would have suggested had finally making love to you not driven all such practical concerns from my head. Like you I want it to be just the two of us for a while. And in addition to concerns in Kirkwall there’s still the matter of Starkhaven. “

“You want to reclaim your throne.” He hadn’t spoken about it for a while.

“I do. I’ve pushed Lord Maclaren aside these last few months, telling him the situation here in Kirkwall required my attention but the simple truth is that a secure and stable Starkhaven can only help the situation in Kirkwall. I’ve probably lost some of the support I had garnered before our wedding and I’ll have to work to regain it. It will probably mean I’ll need to travel quite a bit. Meet with both nobles of Starkhaven and other rulers in the Free Marches. It’s still my wish to do this diplomatically if at all possible.”

“I could travel with you.” She suggested. 

He smiled in relief. “I’d very much like it if you did. So we agree then. Children can wait for a year or two.”

“Yes.” A relieved smile curved her lips and vanished almost as quickly. “But you won’t mind if it turns out that I am?” Pregnant. She didn’t know why she was having trouble saying the word out loud. 

He smiled, glad that he could give her the answer she wanted to hear without any reservations or hesitation. “If what we’ve been doing for the last five days has resulted in your being with child, Anabel, I would be over the moon.” 

To her surprise she found herself blinking back tears. They were married, truly married now and someday, not too far away, they’d have children and raise them together, whether it was here, or Starkhaven, wherever they ended up. They’d be a family. She’d have a family again. 

He saw the tears in her eyes. “Anabel?” 

She brushed back the tears and laughed. “I’m just being emotional.” She leaned forward and kissed him, gently and slowly taking her time, exploring and savoring him, because they didn’t have to rush now, or steal these moments. 

Sebastian let her set the pace and it was languorous and slow, and yet the passion built between them, and the kisses and caresses became less gentle and less slow.

When she finally broke the kiss it felt as if her entire body was tingling. “I suppose we won’t be able to make love for a time. At least until that tea starts to work.” A fortnight before it became effective. That’s what Anders had said, and then she frowned. Was it still effective? It had been almost a year since he’d given her the tea. She knew most herbs lost some of their potency in that time. “Perhaps I should get some more.” The frown deepened. She couldn’t go to Anders for more, not now. She should ask Isabela where such things were obtained, and soon. A fortnight with no sex. Two weeks had never seemed so long. 

Sebastian put a gentle hand beneath her chin raising it so she was looking at him. “There other means of preventing pregnancy, Ana, as well as other ways to pleasure ourselves than intercourse that we can explore.” He said in that soft Starkhaven burr. 

The words made her shiver and were accompanied by a slow smile that left her in no doubt that he was already compiling a list of those ways. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss just below her collarbone and then moved his mouth to her breast. She could feel the heat of his breath through the thin silk and when her nipple hardened just from that, he raked his teeth against it and she couldn’t help making a small noise.

“That sounds very promising.” She said moving closer so that their bodies were pressed close. “Perhaps you might show me some of these other ways so I can make an informed decision?”

He’d stood and thrown her over his shoulder almost before she realized what was happening and she shrieked her surprise. “What are you doing?” 

He was striding for the stairs. “Helping you make an informed decision.”

Before he had reached them there was an insistent knock at the front door and Sebastian hesitated. “Bodahn can get it.” He announced and kept walking.

There was another knock, louder this time. 

“He can’t.” Anabel told him. “He’s not here. None of them are. I gave them all the afternoon off.” 

“No one else is here?” His eyes went to the railing of the upstairs balcony, to her large and sturdy desk, to the hearth in front of the fireplace, just some of the places he’d imagined taking her over the last few months. Even if they couldn’t make love just yet, there were other things he’d been thinking of.

“Just us.” Anabel told him.

There was a third knock at the door.

“Right.” Said Sebastian in a determined voice and strode across the room into the foyer, Anabel still over his shoulder. 

She couldn’t help laughing. “Sebastian, put me down. You can’t possibly answer the door like this.” 

And yet he did, shifting her so she was more comfortably balanced, and pulling it open, revealing a templar standing there. 

The man looked at the Prince, and at the woman he carried, or more precisely at her bottom. There was a moment of stunned silence. 

“May I help you?” Sebastian asked politely. 

“Uh.” The man tore his gaze from the gentle swell of Anabel’s behind and Sebastian couldn’t blame him for staring. Her behind was perfect. “Yes, your Highness. I have a letter for the Champion from the Knight Captain. He said I was to give it directly to her.”

“Of course.” Sebastian voice was pleasantly courteous. “Letter for you, my love.” He turned around so Anabel was facing the man. 

Feeling utterly foolish and still laughing Anabel struggled to raise herself up enough to see who it was. Firmly pressed against Sebastian’s shoulder as she was, the action pulled the front of her dress lower – both pulled it lower, and pressed her breasts up causing them to swell precariously against the neckline as if they were threatening to spill free. 

The man’s eyes immediately went to her cleavage, and she recognized him now; the nervous one with the sad droopy moustache. Pressly? No, Paxley. She gave him an encouraging smile. “Hello Paxley! Lovely day, isn’t it?” 

He managed to drag his eyes up to her face. “Yes, Champion. Very nice.” His voice sounded a bit strained.

She was holding herself at an awkward angle that was already making her neck hurt, but she was afraid if she shifted again she might actually pop out of the dress and she wasn’t quite sure if Paxley or his moustache could handle that. “Cullen sent a letter?” She reminded him and then froze. Sebastian’s free hand, the one not holding her firmly in place had slid under the skirt of her dress and was moving slowly up her bare leg. He paused briefly at the back of her knee and traced a small pattern there. 

It took all Anabel’s concentration to keep from squirming. 

Paxley had apparently not noticed anything. “Yes, Champion. Here.” He held the letter out to her. 

Sebastian’s hand was on the back of her thigh now and slowly sliding between her legs. She fought to keep her expression pleasantly neutral as she reached out to take the letter. 

And then he slipped his finger under the edge of her smalls.

She let out a small yelp and the letter floated to the floor. Sebastian’s hand had stopped moving but he’d left it where it was. She looked at Paxley, her cheeks flaming red now. “I’m sorry Paxley could you get that for me.” Surprisingly her voice sounded fairly normal. 

Paxley had a strange look on his face now. If she had to guess she’d say it was the expression of a man who was pretty certain that something illicit was going on right in front of him but who wasn’t one hundred percent sure. 

As soon as he bent down to pick up the letter, Sebastian began a slow gentle caress. 

Holy Andraste. Her eyes widened in alarm. Things were beginning to throb and from the easy glide of Sebastian’s finger there were other physical effects as well.

Her breath was coming a little faster when Paxley straightened back up. “Thank you, Paxley.” Sebastian’s fingers were moving farther up now, parting her and she felt perspiration break out on her forehead. 

Paxley was still standing there staring. Why wasn’t he leaving? “I’m sorry, did Cullen want you to wait for a reply…yii!!” The word ended in a cry she’d been unable to suppress as Sebastian found the spot he’d been searching for, and was in fact still caressing. 

“No. Champion.” His eyes had grown round and he was actually retreating to the door step.

“Good, good.” She babbled reaching out and managing to grasp the edge of the door. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other soon. Farewell.”

“Farewell, Champ…” 

He was cut off by her slamming the door.

Sebastian immediately started laughing as Anabel squirmed her way free and off his shoulder. 

She swatted his chest. “You are horrible. He knew, you know. He knew you were doing something.”

“Well certainly he knew after those little cries and moans and all that squirming.” He told her. He seemed entirely unrepentant. 

Oh Maker, she had cried out and moaned hadn’t she? She covered her face with her hands. “He’s going to go back to the Gallows and tell everyone we’re perverted voyeurs.” She lifted her head with a frown. “No, not voyeurs. What’s the word I mean? The other one?”

“Exhibitionists?” Sebastian offered. 

“Yes! Exhibitionists.” She couldn’t help thinking of the feel of his hand sliding up her leg, caressing her, of having to keep what she was feeling from showing on her face, of having to carry on as if nothing unusual was happening all while Sebastian’s strong fingers were touching her and moving ever closer. What if she had actually had an orgasm? Would she have been able to hide it? There was a rush of warmth between her thighs and she raised wide eyes to Sebastian. “Sweet Andraste, I am, aren’t I?” 

He was smiling, a smile few people saw, but one she was becoming increasingly familiar with. “Perhaps you are. We could test it sometime, if you like.” 

His words, spoken so nonchalantly, made her heart skip a beat. She ran her tongue over her lips and several scenarios played out in her mind in rapid succession. “I’ll have to think about that.” She told him. 

He gave a small inclination of his head. “Of course.” 

She looked down at the letter in her hand, and suddenly started laughing. “Poor Paxley. You should have seen his face.” 

Sebastian moved closer sliding his arms around her waist. “I think I’d rather have seen yours.” His voice was pitched low and those blue eyes seem to glow in the dim light of the entrance, and as if hypnotized she went up on her toes as he lowered his head and kissed her, running his tongue along her lips.

She let out a little moan. “Cullen’s letter.” She reminded him. 

He took it out of her hand and opened it before handing it back to her. “Read quickly.” He told her.

She did. And then cursed, before raising her eyes to Sebastian’s. “I need to go see Aveline.”

Sebastian took the letter and read it. 

_Champion Hawke,_  
_As a courtesy for your past service, be aware that I have received complaints about your frequent companion, Guard-Captain Aveline. She is accused of coddling her men and weakening law enforcement in this crucial time. In the absence of a viscount, I am called to vacate her position and assume her authority, but I would rather not have that headache._  
_Please, speak with her about these claims. As Champion, your word can decide this matter, and save the career of a good woman._  
_Knight-Captain Cullen_

They had definitely returned to the real world. “You need to go see Aveline.” He agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your patience in waiting for the update, and a thousand thank you's to zendalai who helped me finally wrestle this one into submission. Also a thousand apologies to her for not putting this note in when I first posted the chapter. 
> 
> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	31. Calling on the Knight Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Aveline set out to prove the accusations against her are false and pay a call on Cullen once they've done so.
> 
> Of course a trip to the Gallows is never that uneventful or simple and in the course of their visit more than one person discovers something they didn't know before.

To say Aveline had taken the news of Cullen’s letter poorly was an understatement. 

She’d been positively outraged and when Anabel had made a joke about it she had turned that anger towards her. 

“And you believe this?” The Guard Captain wasn’t shouting, not quite, but the potential was certainly there. 

Anabel had forced herself to shrug, hoping that Aveline would see it as an indication she didn’t take the charge seriously. “Well, someone does. Enough to write to the Knight Captain, at least.”

The muscles in Aveline’s jaw clenched and two bright spots of red appeared on her cheeks – a sure sign that she was struggling to keep her temper. “Well let me give them – and you – an answer, Champion. Guardsman Donnic is leading a patrol this evening. You and I will intercept them for a surprise inspection. Then you can see for yourself if I’m coddling him, or any in my command.” She gave Hawke the glare that had been known to reduce new recruits to tears.

Anabel just blinked at her. “I am only the messenger you know, Aveline. I don’t actually believe the rumor. “ She pointed out to her. “Is it truly required for me to go tromping through Lowtown in the dead of night inspecting the troops? I’m more than happy to tell Cullen anything you like. Couldn’t Sebastian and I just stay home in bed the way normal people do at night?” 

Aveline gave a small derisive snort. “What, five days barely leaving the bed hasn’t been enough for you two?” 

Anabel tilted her head as if seriously considering the question. “Actually…” She began to say.

Sebastian couldn’t help a laugh which he quickly turned into a cough when that steely gaze was turned on him. “Your pardon, Guard Captain. A tickle in my throat.”

Aveline turned back to Hawke. “Meet me here tonight.” She ordered and turned back to her desk, muttering to herself. “Coddling the men indeed.” 

 

Sebastian and Anabel returned to the Keep that night with Fenris and found that Aveline had decided that intercepting only Donnic’s patrol wasn’t enough. After they’d found him and his men fighting bandits down by the Docks, and most definitely not being coddled, Aveline dragged them up to Lowtown to “inspect” another patrol, and then they headed towards Darktown to find a third. 

They were silent for the most part. Aveline had barely spoken since they’d picked her up at the Keep, only monosyllabic replies when directly questioned, or barked orders to her men when they encountered a patrol. She looked every bit as angry as she had when they’d first told her of the accusations against her. Fenris rarely spoke when they prowled around Kirkwall at night, that was nothing new, and Sebastian had never been one for idle chatter. 

She should have brought Varric along, Anabel thought with a small sigh as they trudged through the deserted streets of Lowtown. 

Finally she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “So tell me Aveline.” She began in a conversational tone. “I’ve been curious about this for a while. The way you call Donnic ‘Guardsman Donnic’ like you did just now…. That’s only when you’re both working right? It’s not something that transfers over to the privacy of the bedchamber, is it? You know, you call him Guardsman and he calls you Captain and he has to obey your every order, no matter what you…”

Aveline cut her off without even turning her head to look at her. “I am not in the mood for your jokes tonight, Hawke.” 

So much for lightening the mood.

By the time they’d tracked down the third patrol (still uncoddled), the sky was beginning to lighten. Anabel was exhausted and yawning and begged that they be allowed to stop. “I believe you Aveline, I’ve always believed you. Trust me, anyone whose met you knows you don’t coddle anyone or anything near you. I can personally vouch for that.” 

“Good.” Said Aveline, with no small satisfaction. “Then you won’t mind coming with me to tell the Knight Captain just that.” She ignored Hawke’s groan and headed down to the Docks again to get the ferry to the Gallows. 

 

They boarded the boat and Aveline moved to the bow and stood there, looking like some sort of particularly grim figurehead. Fenris moved to sit on one of the benches beside her as if offering her physical proof that he stood by her.

Sebastian sat on one nearer the back of the boat and pulled Anabel down beside him. “Why don’t you try and sleep a bit?” He suggested, slipping his arm around her.

She yawned into his chest and nuzzled closer. “It’s too short a ride. As soon as I fall asleep we’ll be there.” She grumbled. “I hate my friends.” 

Sebastian laughed softly and kissed the top of her head. “No you don’t.” He told her. “You love them. Why else would we be here?”

“I suppose.” She conceded. “But right now, at this very minute I hate them a little.” 

“Fair enough.” He stroked her hair, feeling her relax against him as the ferry left the Dock. Her breathing become more regular and he began to think that perhaps she had managed to fall asleep. 

As they were pulling up to the Gallows, Aveline came and stood before them. She looked down at Anabel, and her face softened almost imperceptibly. “You’ve worked things out between you?” She asked in that same gruff tone she’d been using all night. 

“Yes, we have.” Sebastian said simply. The Guard Captain wasn’t a woman who needed or wanted flowery explanations or apologies.

Aveline nodded. “Good. Treat her like that again and I’ll make sure deciding whether or not your marriage is chaste isn’t an issue.”

Anabel stirred in his arms. “Sweet Andraste, woman. Does your husband know you go around threatening to emasculate people?” She sat up and stretched and then got to her feet and pressed a kiss to Aveline’s cheek. “Thank you Guard Captain. It’s nice to know you’re still looking out for me even after all this time.” 

Aveline lifted a hand as if she was going to touch her and then returned it quickly to her side. “I might say the same.” She said brusquely and turned to walk to where the gangplank was being put in place.

Anabel turned to Sebastian with a gentle smile curving her lips. “She must be tired. That was positively gooey for Aveline.” 

 

They followed Aveline through the archway. It was early still, and the courtyard was relatively empty. Stalls were just being set up.

Anabel’s stomach let out a gurgle. “What are the odds of the templars offering us breakfast do you suppose?” She asked.

Fenris gave a short low laugh. “Fairly slim, I’d say.” 

Aveline went suddenly stiff and stalked across the courtyard, increasing her pace as she went heading straight to where Knight Captain Cullen was just coming down the stairs. 

“Oh, Maker.” Anabel quickly ran after her, calling out Cullen’s name so the poor man would at least be given some warning. “Cullen!”

Cullen lifted his head with a small frown and when he saw them coming towards him it deepened. “Champion.” He said warily before his eyes flickered to Aveline. "And you are with the Captain. None too happy about the accusations against her, I’m sure.”

“You could say that.” Aveline said, but she sounded less angry than she had been and she raised a hand and wearily rubbed her head. 

She looked tired, Anabel realized. As tired as the rest of them. She been about to joke, about to make light of the situation but decided against it. She turned back to Cullen, noticing that he had dark, almost purple circles under his eyes. Did no one get a good night’s sleep in Kirkwall these days?

Silly question. 

“I saw no evidence to support the claims against the Guard Captain.” She informed the Knight Captain.

Cullen seemed unsurprised. “As I suspected.”

“Then why press this?” Aveline asked, her frustration plain.

Anabel thought Cullen might hem and haw or offer excuses but his answer, when it came, was straightforward, honest, and straight to the point, much like the man himself. “Some feel that the solution to the current crisis of leadership is to consolidate authority. As long as these complaints continue they will serve as a justification for eliminating the position of Guard Captain. It would be the simplest fix, whether or not I agree.” Cullen looked directly at Hawke as he spoke. 

She was confused for a moment and then it occurred to her what he was trying to tell her. “You darling man!” She exclaimed with a delighted smile. “You never believed those ridiculous stories! You just wanted to be sure we knew about them.” She could kiss him. But it was more than that. Cullen might not have intended the message but what he’d said, what he’d done, let her know there were templars in the Gallows who disagreed with Meredith’s course of action, even if they weren’t willing to act against her. 

Not yet anyway, thought Anabel. Now if she could just figure out how to get them to take that final step. 

Cullen looked less than thrilled by her words and she realized her error even as Sebastian laid a cautionary hand on her arm.

Cullen had gone behind Meredith’s back when he’d sent her that message and here she was proclaiming it loudly to anyone within earshot in the Gallows. She quickly hid her smile. “Perhaps I could reason with those who take issue with Aveline’s actions.” She suggested. 

“If they meant to be reasonable the complaints would not have been anonymous. I believe they originated in Lowtown.” He lingered on the last word in a way that convinced Anabel he knew more about it than he was saying. 

Aveline was frowning again. “Guardsman Brennan is on patrol there. Why wouldn’t she have told me?” 

Cullen turned to look at her. “I don’t know, but I apologize for the assumptions of the incident. It was…unfortunate.”

Aveline’s face was like stone. “It’s not done.” She turned and walked back towards the dock, despite the fact that the next ferry wasn’t due to leave for at least half an hour. 

Anabel caught Fenris’ eye and he gave a small nod and followed Aveline. Anabel turned back to Cullen. “Thank you Cullen.”

Cullen inclined his head. “There’s no need to thank me, Champion. The Captain is an honorable woman who does her duty by the guards who serve her. This should never have…” He stopped speaking abruptly, as if he’d said too much. “If you’ll excuse me.” He said, and walked quickly away.

Anabel sighed as she watched him leave. “I don’t understand Cullen.” She said as Sebastian moved to stand beside her. 

“How so?” Asked Sebastian.

“He’s a good man and reasonable, in spite of some of the things he’s said about mages and magic yet he’s completely devoted to Meredith, who’s off her rocker. I’ve never understood why, and now he does something like this, obviously acting behind her back, if not going against her direct orders. I can’t figure it out.” She looked up at her husband and there was something in his expression. “What?” She asked.

Sebastian feigned innocence. “What?” He repeated.

She wagged her finger at him. “Oh no you don’t. You know something. Something about Cullen.” 

For more than a year Sebastian had been debating with himself as to whether or not he would be violating a confidence if he told her. She should know, he decided abruptly. “You had a cousin in Kinloch Hold, did you know?”

From the startled expression on her face he knew she hadn’t. “A cousin?” She repeated.

Sebastian nodded. “Yes. Her name was Solona. Solona Amell. Cullen spoke to me of her when you were so ill.”

A cousin. “You said had. She’s dead then?”

Sebastian nodded. “Yes. She was killed during the troubles there during the Blight.”

Anabel’s face fell. A cousin at Kinloch Hold. She started to say “I didn’t know.”, and then she remembered that letter she and Carver had found all those years ago. “Revka’s child.” She murmured. Sebastian gave her a puzzled look she hastened to explain. “We found a letter in the house, in one of the trunks in the basement. My mother’s cousin Revka had a child who turned out to be a mage. The letter made it sound as if that was the cause of all the Amell's troubles, the beginning of the end. It must have been her.” 

Solona. She had a name now. 

Anabel looked across the courtyard to where Cullen stood talking to Thrask. “I wonder why he never said anything to me?” 

“I believe it’s difficult for him to speak of her.” Sebastian told her. “I got the impression she meant a great deal to him.” 

Anabel's eyes widened. “You mean they were involved? Knight Captain Cullen, practically the poster boy for the templar order and my mage cousin?”

“I believe so. There was tenderness in the way he spoke of her. And admiration. And a great deal of sorrow. He said you reminded him of her. Not in looks but in your outspokenness and your determination. And your stubbornness.” 

She couldn’t help laughing but the laughter faded quickly. “Poor Cullen. And poor Solona. I wonder if Gamlen knows anything about her?” 

“I can’t imagine that he wouldn’t.” Anabel was still staring after Cullen with an oddly wistful expression. He put his hand under her chin he raised her face so she was looking at him. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Ana.”

“It could have been mine, the life she had.” She said simply. “If Da hadn’t survived his adventures with the Wardens, or if he’d been a different sort of man and simply deserted my mother when she was pregnant, I would have been born here in Kirkwall.” She lowered her voice so they wouldn’t be overheard. “There would have been no spell to seal my magic away. I would have been a mage, a true mage. My grandfather would have sent me away as she was sent away – Solona, I mean. It could have been me at Kinloch Hold.” 

The thought hadn’t occurred to Sebastian. She was right. That it hadn't happened that way was yet something else to thank the Maker for. He bent down and kissed her, suddenly, and quite thoroughly, putting his hands on her waist and pulling her up against him, in spite of the fact they were in the middle of the now bustling Gallows.

When he straightened up she was smiling and breathless. “You’re going to scandalize the templars, Sebastian Vael.” But instead of moving away she leaned forward resting her head against his chest. “So many things that had to happen, and not happen, for us to have this life together. It leaves me feeling awed and extraordinarily lucky. And a bit guilty. It doesn't seem at all fair.” Her voice trailed off thinking of all those others who had been denied even a chance at love, at marriage, at children. Bethany. Solona. Even Revka who’d had her children but had them taken away. That must be worse, mustn't it? She wondered what had become of her after Solona had been sent to Ferelden and her eyes began to prickle with tears. 

Sebastian had been watching her. “We’ve been very lucky.” He agreed gently.

She looked up at him. “Could we put a plaque on the Memorial Wall for Solona do you think? She was born here after all.”

Sebastian’s arms tightened around her. “Yes. I’ll take care of it.”

“And we should tell Cullen we’re going to. Will you do that? I seem to make him nervous.”

Sebastian couldn’t help laughing. “Yes, I’ll let him know.” 

She yawned suddenly, resting her head against him again. “Maker, I’m exhausted. What do you think are the odds Aveline lets us get some sleep before dragging us out to find Brennan?” She asked.

He stroked her back gently “I think it could probably be negotiated.” 

“I’m so tired.” She complained burrowing in against him. “For the first time in days all I want to climb into bed with you and do nothing but sleep. If we keep going like this we won’t have to worry about contraception. Thanks to Aveline we’ll be too exhausted to even...” Her eyes flew open. “Aveline.” She said abruptly.

Sebastian looked puzzled. “Aveline?”

Anabel ignored the question in his voice. “Oh, I can’t believe I didn’t think to ask her before this.” 

“Ask her what?” Sebastian called after her, but Anabel was already jogging towards the Gallows’ dock.

“I’ll be right back.” She called over her shoulder. Maker, she was an idiot. She should have just asked Aveline, Aveline who’d been married to Donnic for almost two years now and sleeping with him for longer than that, Aveline, who’d informed Fenris when he’d asked about it that she’d have children when Donnic was willing to carry them to term and ‘shit them out his ass’. 

Surely a statement like that meant she was using some kind of contraceptive.

She found the guard captain pacing back and forth at the end of the Dock. Fenris was some distance away, well out of earshot.

“I need to ask you something?” She said abruptly. “Something unrelated to all this guard stuff.” 

Aveline looked wary. “What?”

Anabel couldn’t help laughing. “You don’t need to sound so suspicious. I was just wondering….” Her voice trailed off. Maker this was awkward. “You and Donnic don’t have children.”

“No.” Aveline agreed.

Anabel could feel her cheeks growing hot. “I know there’s a tea that can... is that what you… I mean is there something else? That you use, I mean… for…” She gestured awkwardly with her hands. “You know…”

Aveline just frowned. “Hawke what is this about?”

Anabel took a deep breath and when she spoke the words came out all in a rush. “I want to start taking some sort of contraception and I know there’s a tea, Anders gave it to me last year, but I don’t know if it’s any good or if it’s gone off and won’t work anymore, in which case I’d have to get a fresh batch, but I can’t ask Anders now, and Maker knows who Isabela would get it from, and I’ve no idea who to go to and who’ll be discreet, I mean and not spread the news all over Kirkwall that the Champion is... “ 

She saw understanding dawn as she rambled on and Aveline held up her hand cutting her off. “Leandra never told you about this sort of thing?” She said after a moment. 

Anabel just raised a dubious eyebrow.

Of course Leandra wouldn’t have, thought Aveline. “Solivitus.” She said.

“Solivitus?” Anabel repeated dumbly. “Solivitus who has a stand right there?” She asked gesturing behind her. “Solivitus, for whom I’ve been hunting down ingredients for five years now? That Solivitus?”

Aveline actually smirked. “What did you think harlot’s blush was used for?” She snickered when Anabel’s mouth fell open.

“Well certainly not that.” Anabel muttered. “Would you excuse me for a minute?” Without waiting for an answer she turned and ran back into the courtyard, passing Sebastian as she went, and calling out “I’ll be right back!" when he called out her name.

Solivitus. All his potions and teas. All the herbs and ingredients she'd collected for him. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t even thought of him as a source. 

She rounded the corner sharply and slammed into a templar in full armor and was knocked right on her behind.

“Champion, forgive me.” The templar, a recruit she saw by his armor, was younger than she’d thought at first, but large and muscled and she could have guessed he wielded a two handed weapon even before she saw it on his back. “I didn’t see you.” He said, even as he reached to help her to her feet.

She was laughing. “It’s my fault, whipping around corners the way I do. It happens to me all the time. I should carry a sign, or wear very bright colors or some such thing. It’s come in handy though. It’s a wonderful way to meet people. It’s how I met my husband, actually.” She brushed the dust off her backside and gave him an easy smile, holding out her hand. “My name’s Hawke, but I suppose you knew that already. “ It still seemed strange that everyone in Kirkwall knew who she was. 

He returned the smile. He was a good looking boy, with a mane of tawny hair and pleasing but strong features. Rugged, Isabela would have called them. He reminded her of someone and she couldn’t think of whom. 

“You don’t remember me, do you?” He asked, but he seemed amused rather than offended.

“I was just thinking you looked familiar.” She told him.

His eyes were twinkling. “I’m Davin. You once committed petty larceny on behalf of me and my friends.” At her puzzled look he reminded her. “In the Chantry kitchen. You gave me and my fellow orphans cookies.”

She blinked up at him. “Davin?” She said remembering the orphan who’d just found out he was going to train as a templar, the one who knew his mother had been a mage. It had been almost two years since she’d seen him and to say he’d gone through a growth spurt was a gross understatement. He was huge. Not quite as big as Carver but close. “Maker. What are they putting into the cookies they’re feeding you these days?”

He chuckled. “I can’t really answer that, Serah. There’s no sneaking into the kitchens here in the Gallows.”

_I can’t really answer that._

A shiver went down her spine and she knew in an instant why he looked so familiar and it had nothing to do with cookies and orphans.

Emeric.

Knight Captain Cullen had come running over when he’d seen her fall. “Champion, are you all right?” 

Anabel tore her eyes away from Davin. “Oh, it’ll take more than one templar recruit to best me, Knight Captain. You should know that.”

Cullen looked as if he didn’t quite believe her and turned to Davin with a frown. “You have duties to attend to, I’m sure, Recruit Davin.”

Davin immediately straightened to attention. “Yes Knight Captain.” He inclined his head towards Anabel. “Champion.” He said, and walked away. 

Anabel immediately turned to Cullen. “He’s Emeric’s son isn’t he?” She demanded. 

Cullen looked at her, a look somewhere between surprised alarm and panic. “Why would you think that?” He finally managed to get out.

Anabel just laughed. “Because I have eyes and a memory?” She suggested. “You aren't really going to deny it, are you? He’s the spitting image of the man!” 

Cullen raised an arm and rubbed the back of his neck. “Champion…”

"In fact." She said as the pieces began to fall into place. “I’ll go you one further, and if I’m right you have to tell me so. His mother was a mage called Mharen, wasn’t she?” 

Cullen’s hand dropped and his face suddenly closed off. “I can’t really answer that, Champion.” He said and turned and left.

She shook her head as she watched him flee. She wondered if that phrase was part of templar training or if was just here at the Gallows that it was so popular. Obviously her guess about the boy’s mother had been correct, if Cullen’s reaction was any indication. Emeric had a son. He must have known there was a child, but had he known that that child was right here, at the orphanage in Kirkwall? 

She turned towards the stalls and spied Alain, one of the Starkhaven mages that she’d turned over to Thrask all those years ago, and had begun to walk over to him, when Grace, the leader of those same mages, appeared by his side, glaring at her.

 _If looks could kill_ , she thought, and immediately changed her mind and her direction, continuing on to Sol’s stall. After being awake all night the last thing she wanted to do was to get into another argument with Grace. She’d tried talking to the woman on a number of occasions and it always ended with Grace screaming at her, she'd even attacked her once, though thank the Maker only Thrask had been there to see it. Had it been a different templar Grace would have ended up tranquil. Given the alarming rate at which mages were being made tranquil lately, and Grace's behavior, Anabel was honestly surprised it hadn’t happened already.

She scowled. Meredith needed to be stopped. She agreed entirely with Anders on that point. It was just the how that they disagreed about. 

She reached Sol's stall and after stumbling a bit and blushing a lot, she obtained her tea. Grace was still there, still glaring when she passed back, though Alain had gone. Deciding it was ridiculous to simply ignore the woman she nodded to her and saw the woman’s hands curl into fists. She felt the magic even before Grace's hands began to glow orange, even before she took steps towards her and then Thrask was suddenly there putting a hand on Grace's arm, stopping her, talking to her quietly. The glow of her hands subsided. Anabel looked around but no one else seemed to have noticed.

_Thank the Maker._

She heard her name called, and looked up to see Sebastian striding towards her. 

“The ferry’s almost here.” He told her. "Have you finished whatever you've been up to?"

She held up the pouch Solivitus had given her with a triumphant smile “Guess what I got?” She asked him. “As it turns out I’ve been responsible for the production of half the contraceptives in Kirkwall for years now.” She said looking up at him with laughing eyes.

 

Grace’s eyes narrowed as she watched Hawke, _the Champion_ , she thought with a sneer, watching her laughing and chatting with a tall man who’d just walked up to her. Not a care in the world, and why would she have? 

“Grace!” Thrask said sharply and she turned sullen eyes to him. 

He sighed. “This has to stop, Grace. You have to take responsibility for your own actions. You used blood magic. You summoned undead. You tried to slaughter her and her companions. She could have killed you right there and no one would have found fault with the decision.”

“I wish she had!” Grace said fiercely. “This place is a hundred times worse than Starkhaven ever was.”

“This is why we’re trying to change it, slowly and peacefully, from the inside. You can be a part of that.” Thrask said to her. He wasn’t even sure that she was hearing him. 

She was looking past him and her expression changed suddenly from resentment to stunned disbelief. “Who is that man?" She demanded. "The one with Hawke?” 

Thrask glanced back. “That’s the Champion’s husband, Sebastian Vael.”

“That’s the prince? The Prince of Starkhaven?” 

Thrask was suddenly wary. “Not officially the ruler of Starkhaven, but yes, that’s the prince.” 

As they watched Hawke slipped her arm through her husband's, still laughing. Sebastian covered her hand with his own, smiling down at her. 

Thrask looked at Grace. He could see the muscle in her cheek clenching. Her eyes were burning with emotion. “Grace." He said gently. "This hatred will destroy you. It’s time to move on. To try another way.” 

She dragged her eyes away from the pair. “Yes.” She agreed abruptly. Her ice blue eyes were unreadable.

The change was so sudden after months of trying to convince her that Thrask frowned, thinking he or she had misunderstood. “Yes?”

“Yes, I’ll be part of your group.” But when she turned to look at the couple again, that same hate still burned there.

It wasn’t until later that evening that Thrask realized she hadn’t been looking at the Champion this time.

She’d been looking at the prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


	32. The Champion Steps Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dealing with some lingering doubts Anabel finally embraces her role as Champion of the City.

Anabel had been tired enough that she’d almost fallen asleep again on the ferry back to the Docks, and as they made their way from the Docks to Lowtown she’d barely been able to keep her eyes open. Sebastian had slipped his arm around her letting her lean against him as they walked but she’d still been yawning uncontrollably when they’d finally found and confronted Guardsman Brennan. 

However she’d woken right up when Brennan informed them that former Guard Captain Jevan was the culprit, back in Kirkwall after all these years, and intent on stirring up trouble for Aveline. 

They left Aveline to get the details of the rally Jevan was holding that night, promising to meet up with her at the Keep and head down to the Undercity together to deal with the man once and for all. Fenris parted company with them at the Hanged Man to let Varric and Isabela know of the evening’s plans and Sebastian and Anabel continued on their own towards Hightown.

She was scowling as they made their way through the Lowtown market, now in full swing. She’d gone from barely awake, to almost crackling with energy and outrage.

“Fucking Jevan of all people.” She fumed, shaking her head in disgust as she stalked past the vendors selling their wares. “You know, I remember thinking when we turned him in and the Viscount made Aveline acting Guard Captain, how easy it was; we’d found evidence Jevan was a crook, we’d told the people in charge, and he was punished. I remember thinking, golly, maybe Kirkwall’s not such a hopeless case after all. But no, of course not. Five years later and Kirkwall’s a bigger mess than ever, and as if to emphasize that fact, Jevan comes blazing back, wrapped up tight in his xenophobia and his Kirkwall birthright. Fucking Jevan.” She muttered again. 

It had been months since Sebastian had heard her swear like this and she was walking so quickly and with such determination that he found himself having to quicken his pace to keep up with her, something that should have been impossible given the difference in their heights. He caught her hand as they reached the top of the stairs by Lirene’s shop. 

She looked back at him, puzzled, not understanding why he’d stopped her. 

He pulled her slowly back to him, close enough that she had to tilt her head to look up at him, and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “It’s going to be all right, Ana. We’ll take care of it.” He promised.

She stared at him for a moment and then looked past him to the market they’d just left. He couldn’t say for certain that she’d even heard what he’d said. 

“He’s right you know.” She said finally, still staring out at the market. “Jevan, I mean. We are all foreigners: most of the people running things in Kirkwall these days aren’t from Kirkwall at all.” 

“Not everyone.” He reminded her. “The Seneschal’s lived here his whole life.”

She gave a small shrug. “Yes, Bran’s from here, and Meredith, of course, but they’re the only two I can think of: even Elthina’s not from Kirkwall.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth and worried it gently for a moment before releasing it. “Maybe Jevan’s right.” She sounded almost as if she were speaking to herself. “Maybe we shouldn’t be in charge.”

_She isn’t even of this city._

Out of nowhere she remembered what Meredith had said in the midst of the Qunari attack all those months ago, when Orsino had suggested that she, rather than Meredith should lead the counterattack. 

_She isn’t even of this city._

Meredith had sounded more outraged by that than she had about the Qunari attacking. 

And now Jevan was using the point as a rallying cry. 

She’d fought to keep this city safe for years now. She’d almost died doing it: was being born in Kirkwall truly more important than that? 

Sebastian had been watching her carefully and he saw that burst of outraged energy vanish as suddenly as it had appeared. Anabel seemed … defeated was the only word he could come up with. “Ana…” He said, not even trying to keep the worry from his voice.

“Maybe Jevan’s right.” She said again, so softly he had to strain to hear it. 

He couldn’t remember her ever sounding so tentative.

She finally turned away from the market but she still wasn’t looking at him. “Maybe they’re all right.” She said in a small voice. “Maybe we aren’t the ones who should be in charge. Maybe that’s what’s kept Meredith in power all these years. Maybe Kirkwallers just don’t want an outsider running their city.” 

_Outsider_. It sounded even worse when she said it out loud. That was what she was, still, even now, even after all she’d done. An outsider. She looked down at her feet, digging one toe into the dirt. _Outsider_. When she glanced up at Sebastian he looked so concerned that her eyes began to prickle with tears, and she quickly looked down again. 

Could it truly be that simple? It had been almost two years since the Viscount’s death. Was there something she could have done or something she should be doing now? Should she have made it known she was interested in the position earlier? Should she be more vocal now, or was it too late for that and should she simply step aside and support someone else, someone who was a Kirkwall native, someone unquestionably ‘of the city’? Would that be better for Kirkwall in the long run? But if she did, who should she support? Who was qualified to handle the undeniable disaster that was Kirkwall? Bran was the obvious choice, but he had refused to even discuss it when she’d raised the subject once, refused with such vehemence that she hadn’t had the nerve to bring it up again. Should she have? Would having one of their own as a candidate give Kirkwall the push it needed to finally oust Meredith? 

Sebastian watched as a small wrinkle formed between her brows. Her uncertainty made her seem much smaller and much more fragile, or perhaps it was just that the illusion was gone: Anabel carried herself with such impressive confidence that most of the time it was easy to forget just how small, and young, and yes, on occasion, how fragile she was. 

That confidence had vanished, and that in itself was enough to let him know just how upset and tired she was. He slipped his arms around her, pulling her close. She didn’t resist him exactly, but she came slowly and rested her hands against his chest as if to keep herself from getting too close. 

“Your mother was born here, Anabel.” He reminded her. “You’re as much from Kirkwall as you are from Ferelden.” 

She leaned her forehead against him. “I suppose. “ She grumbled. “People only seem to remember that when they want to though.”

Even if she were to be given the job of Viscount, was Kirkwall even fixable at this point? And what made her think she was any more qualified than anyone else? Was she fooling herself thinking that she had any sort of solution, or was it pure arrogance on her part? She’d only been here, what, five years? And somehow she should be the one to take charge?

Maker, it was arrogant wasn’t it? 

_No,_ a small voice in her head insisted. _It isn’t. Think of what you’ve done for the city, not just the big things, not just defeating the Arishok, but all those countless other smaller things that you’ve been doing for years now._

She scowled against Sebastian’s chest. _Why should I? No one else does._

Even inside her head the statement reeked of such self-pity and wounded pride that she gave a small groan of frustration, burrowing closer and sliding her arms around Sebastian’s waist, finally letting him hold her properly. His hands gently stroked her back and the feel of that touch, of him, solid, steady and strong, helped. 

“I hate it when I get like this.” She said, lifting her head and looking at him at last. “I’m ridiculous.”

He reached up and smoothed her hair back from her face. “Why should you think that?” He asked gently.

She gave a heavy sigh, pressing even closer to him as if she were trying to hide there. Maybe that was exactly what she was doing, she thought as she buried her face in his chest. It certainly sounded like the best solution she’d come up with so far. She lifted a hand and toyed with the buttons of his leather jerkin for a moment before responding. “With everything that’s going on right now, Jevan and Meredith and the mages and the templars and all of that, I’m standing here sulking because Kirkwall’s hurt my feelings. All I can think is that everyone should more appreciative of all that I do, and be nicer to me because of it. It’s pathetic, and an utterly infantile response. What is it I expect? That they’ll all stand around me in a circle holding hands and singing songs of praise? That they’ll fall to their knees in front of me and beg me to be Viscount? Am I truly that much of an egotist?” 

Sebastian’s answer came without hesitation. “I think you’re one of the least egotistical people I know.“

She shook her head against his chest. “No. I’m self-centered and whiney, and generally an awful person. I don’t know why you put up with me.” But when she tilted her head back to look up at him this time, there was a ghost of a smile on her face. “I’m glad that you do, though.” 

He smiled back at her. “As am I. Remember, Ana: it isn’t Kirkwall. This is Jevan and his malcontents. That sort will always look for someone else to blame for their troubles.”

She took a deep breath and stood a little taller. “Yes. I should remember that.” 

He tucked a stray curl back behind one ear. “I suggest that we go home and get some sleep. It’s been a very long night and this next one doesn’t promise to be much better. I think you’ll feel better when you’ve rested.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” Her face softened looking at him. “Thank you.” 

The smile he gave her made the world seem a bit brighter. “For what, love?” 

“For putting up with all my moaning on about it.” And she was suddenly exhausted again. “You’re right. It has been a very long night. Take me home and put me to bed.”

“Come.” He said, leaving one arm around her waist and walking her to the stairs leading up to Hightown.

They’d never seemed so long. She stumbled on the last one and might have fallen if Sebastian hadn’t had tightened his arm around her.

“Fucking stairs.” She muttered. “Why does Kirkwall have so many fucking stairs?”

“I believe that has something to do with geography. The easiest way to get from point A to point B.” Sebastian told her with a smile.

“Fucking geography.” She retorted and gave a wide yawn, only remembering at the last minute to cover her mouth with her hand. “Sorry.” She mumbled apologetically, glancing up at him. 

He looked perfect as ever, composed and serene, not a hair out of place. Even the leather armor he wore, a simple but beautifully crafted set in a dark muted red that made his eyes even bluer than usual, seemed absolutely pristine, untouched by the previous night’s activities. 

She, as usual, was covered in dirt and blood and probably bits of things that she really didn’t want to think about too closely. The neat braid she’d left the house with last night had long since come undone. She hadn’t even tried to rebraid it, but had simply used the ribbon to tie her hair out of the way, apparently unsuccessfully if the knotted and tangled curls she kept having to brush out of her face were any indication. She felt, and probably looked, like something that had been swept up with the evening’s refuse down by the Docks. “Aren’t you tired at all?” She asked him, exasperated.

“Very.” Sebastian admitted freely. 

“So how is it you don’t look it?” She demanded. “Why you aren’t tripping over your own feet and bitching about everything the way I am? That’s hardly fair.” Someone called out a greeting and she raised her hand in response, though she barely noticed who it was. 

“Perhaps you’re just more of a whiner than I am.” He said lightly.

She looked up at him in surprise and found him smiling down at her, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. She couldn’t help laughing. “Well, there’s no denying that, I suppose.” 

“I frequently stayed out all night when I was younger with no ill effects.” Sebastian reminded her. “Perhaps it’s a skill you never really lose.” 

“Good Morning, Champion, Your Highness!” Sam called out as they passed his flower stand.

“Good Morning, Sam.” Sebastian replied. He paused to pull a single peach and pink Champion rose from one of the buckets displayed there, and handed it to Anabel. She took it with a smile, raising it to her face to inhale the sweet fragrance as Sebastian slipped Sam a coin. 

“I used to stay out all night and continue right through to the next without even noticing.” She pointed out as they continued through the market. “But just look at me now.” She said gesturing to herself.

He did and the sudden warmth in his eyes made her heart swell. “You’re beautiful.” He said simply. 

She smiled back but shook her head. “Maker love you for a liar, Sebastian Vael.“ 

“I’ve got some lovely new pieces just arrived from Antiva, Champion.” Korval called out as they passed his table. 

Anabel didn’t even slow down. “Not this morning, Korval. “ She called over her shoulder. “I’m heading off to bed.”

“He’s a lucky man, your husband!” Korval shouted after her. 

She could hear the leer in the weaponsmith’s voice and just a week ago it might have made her blush uncomfortably, for any number of reasons, but now….she glanced up at Sebastian and there was a heat in his eyes that left her breathless. 

But now if she wanted to she could go home and make love to her husband for hours, do things with him and to him that would probably make even Korval blush. 

She spun around, giving Korval a brilliant smile. “I’m the lucky one, Korval.” She told him, walking backwards as she spoke. “I’ll stop by tomorrow. I’ve got plans for the rest of the day that don’t involve weapons – well, not the sort you sell anyway.” 

She squealed as Sebastian hooked an arm around her waist, laughing as he half-carried her up the stairs out of the market. She could hear Korval laughing as well. A few of the nobles around them looked scandalized, but quickly covered it up when they saw she was watching them, smiling eye, and nodding their greetings.

Perhaps there were advantages to being the Champion. _No one tells a prince what to do_ , she‘d told Sebastian years ago. Apparently it held true for Champions as well.

Sebastian kissed the top of her head as he deposited her at the top of the stairs. “Shameless.” He informed her.

“Yes.” She agreed happily. “Isn’t it marvelous?” 

She seemed so pleased that he couldn’t help bending down and kissing her again, on the mouth this time. He’d intended it to be a light kiss, just a touch of his lips against hers, but before he could straighten up completely, she caught hold of the front of his jacket and kept him there, going up on her toes and kissing him back, making it something more. Her lips were soft as they teased at his, nibbling and biting, alternating between his top lip and then the bottom one, never lingering long at one, and he found himself bringing his hands up to cradle her face, to hold her still, so that he could taste her properly and thoroughly. 

When he finally raised his head she was staring up at him, her eyes huge, the rich blue almost swallowing up the green. Her mouth was parted, her lips fuller and redder than they had been a moment ago and as he watched they curved into a smile. He bent and kissed her once more. 

“Now who’s shameless?” She asked breathlessly when they broke apart again. There was a rich huskiness to her voice that hadn’t been there before.

“Both of us, it seems.” He cupped her face in one hand, brushing his thumb over her delicate cheekbone. 

She leaned into his touch almost like a cat would. “We’ll become the scandal of Hightown if we’re not careful.” 

“I’m not entirely certain that I care.” He informed her. “A sure sign that we should take ourselves behind closed doors.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, and she rested her head against him as they continued on to the Amell mansion. 

When they reached it, she slipped her hand free while he fished for his key, and stood there, leaning against one of the pillars that framed the entrance. She stared up at the Keep, watching the Templars patrolling in front of it. 

She missed Liam and the other guards who used to be stationed there.

The Keep was bathed in sunlight at this time of day and it was as imposing and impressive a building as it had been the first time she’d seen it, but it tempted now in a way it hadn’t before. She heard the door open and turned her head. “Do you think I can be the Viscount Kirkwall needs?” She asked quietly.

Sebastian didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.” 

She couldn’t help laughing. “Just like that?”

“Yes.” And there was no doubt at all, indeed he seemed surprised she’d even needed to ask the question.

Her own reservations didn’t vanish entirely but they seemed a smaller thing suddenly, a thing that could be overcome. She could only marvel at the unwavering faith he had in her. 

_Faith._

Comprehension swept over her so suddenly that it left her almost dizzy. This. This was what Anders hadn’t understood. This was the reason she’d been able to forgive Sebastian. This was why, when he’d asked her to have faith in him in spite of everything he’d done, she’d been able to: Sebastian Vael believed in her in a way no one else did.

And in that instant she knew he’d been telling the truth when he’d said it hadn’t been her he didn’t trust, but himself. She’d been wrong when she’d accused him of lying to her about that. 

Sebastian believed in her. He always had. Her decision had been the right one. 

Her smile started slowly and grew into something of such love and unwavering belief that it took Sebastian’s breath away. He’d thought when he was younger that no one would ever look at him like that, but it wasn’t that which was making his heart race now. 

Anabel had forgiven him: not simply given him the second chance he’d asked for, but truly forgiven him. He didn’t know what had removed those last lingering doubts, but they were gone, he was as certain about that as he’d ever been about anything in his life. Looking into those brilliant eyes, taking in that smile he simply knew it to be true. 

_Thank you. Blessed Andraste, thank you._

For a moment, neither of them moved. 

“Take me to bed.” She demanded, still not moving from where she stood.

The smile he gave her made her heart beat faster. He didn’t speak, simply pushed the door open, holding it so she could enter the mansion ahead of him. 

She walked slowly into the living room, her heart pounding, knowing he was right behind her. She paused at one of the side tables to remove her weapons and leave them there: Bodahn could see to them today. 

Sebastian came up beside her laying down his bow and quiver next to her daggers. 

They turned to face each other at almost the same moment. 

“Do you want something to eat?” He asked moving closer to her, but stopping short of touching her. 

She shook her head. “Just bed.” She told him. “Just you. And sleep…eventually.” She slipped her hand into his and stared solemnly up at him.

He almost lost himself in her eyes. “Yes.” 

She didn’t say anything else, simply turned, and still holding his hand, led him up the stairs into the bedroom they now shared. 

Sebastian shut the door behind them and watched wordlessly as she began unfastening the buckles of her leather armor. 

There were ten in all, arranged in an asymmetrical line that went from the right side of her neck to just below her left hip, buckles that when fastened properly pulled the midnight blue leather close, so that it clung to every soft curve of her body. 

Sebastian knew there were ten because he’d counted them once shortly after she’d purchased the set last autumn, had counted them when that perfect shape had been haunting him, when he thought he’d never be able to claim her, never have her – not physically anyway. He’d lain in awake in his bed after she’d worn it the first time, fantasizing about undressing her, about slowly unfastening each buckle, one by one, slowly revealing the exquisite body beneath it. He’d imagined sliding his hands around her waist when it was finally open and pushing it off, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath whatever shirt she was wearing beneath it, something of fine cotton lawn, or thin silk, no doubt, one of the soft, sensuous fabrics she favored, fabrics that would never be as soft and sensuous as the skin they covered. 

He’d thought at the time that the fantasy was all he would ever have. 

He was standing in front of her brushing her hands aside almost before he’d consciously made the decision to cross the room. 

She gave him a questioning look. 

“Let me.” And it was almost a plea. 

“All right.” She said softly, letting her arms fall to her sides. 

He made quick work of the buckles; his fingers caressing the bare flesh he uncovered and when he’d finished he paused to press his lips to the now exposed hollow of her throat. 

Anabel closed her eyes feeling his breath hot on her skin and she clutched at his shoulder to steady herself.

Sebastian smiled against her collarbone. “Your pulse is racing.” He murmured.

She gave a breathy laugh. “That’s hardly surprising, is it?” 

“No, I suppose not.” He straightened up and parted the jacket letting it slide off her shoulders and fall to the floor. 

And then his own pulse was racing. 

She wasn’t wearing a shirt or a breastband beneath the jacket, just the smallest, most fragile of camisoles, scarcely more than a wide band of almost sheer white cotton lawn, with a deep scoop neck that tied with a narrow satin ribbon. It was trimmed with delicate lace and embroidered with a scattering of small white flowers, and ended just above her waist, leaving a wide expanse of bare skin between edge of the camisole and her trousers. It hid almost nothing and he doubted it could have been more erotic if she were in fact naked beneath the armor. He could see almost everything through the thin veil of the camisole: the soft swell of her breasts, the shadow between them, the perfectly pink nipples that crowned them. 

“Had I known you were so scantily clothed beneath that armor, Mistress Vael, I would have rushed you home more quickly.” He brushed his open palm over her breast, watching and feeling her nipple harden through the thin fabric. 

To his delight she blushed as if she’d been caught in some indiscretion. “It was too warm to wear anything more.” She insisted. 

“Yes, I’m sure the decision was based entirely on such practical considerations.” He murmured with a teasing smile. Putting his hands around her waist, he quickly walked her backwards towards the bed, and when they’d reached it he turned them and sat on the edge of the mattress, pulling her to him so she stood between his open legs.

He slid his hands up, so he cupped both of her breasts. _A perfect handful,_ he thought, and slipping his hands around her back he drew her to him and closed his mouth around the tip of one, smiling against her skin when he heard her sharp intake of breath. He suckled gently, and then not so gently until she made that small noise, the one somewhere between a cry and a moan, the sound that made him instantly hard and ready and had from the first time he’d heard it. 

Only then did he pull his head back. The wet fabric of her camisole was transparent now, and clinging to that pale pink tip. _Beautiful_. “I must admit, I’ve become rather fond of that sound.” He commented idly, running his thumb over her nipple, smiling with satisfaction when she gave a small shiver. He loved the way she responded to his touch. 

Anabel had been watching him and saw the smile. He was always so calm and collected and…reasonable, if that was the word she was looking for. No, not reasonable. Controlled. Perfectly in control of his actions, even when she taunted him to lose control. She didn’t know how he did it in the heat of everything: she just flailed about frantic with need. He always met that need, anticipated it almost. She wondered, not for the first time, what it would take to make him truly lose control, to get him to make a noise like that.

Her lips curved into a smile. It was always good to have a goal, she decided. “Perhaps if you were to try very hard you could get me to make it again.” She suggested, attempting to match his own nonchalance. She immediately cried out as he suddenly bit down lightly on her breast and then closed his mouth over her nipple, drawing it into his mouth, while simultaneously raising his hand to her other breast, caressing it gently. 

“Very good.” She said faintly. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of both hand and mouth. Each tug at her breast, each caress of his hand made her throb with need. With another small moan, she arched her back, pressing herself closer.

At the sound of that moan, Sebastian’s hand tightened on her breast, and then he abruptly released her, and stood, and turned, lifting her and half-throwing her onto the bed, producing another small squeal. 

“All right.” He teased. “Let’s not overdo it now.” 

She couldn’t help laughing. “I’m not trying to make it easy for you, really.” She’d never thought there would be laughter in lovemaking. That there was had both surprised and delighted her. She lay there as he lifted one of her feet, pulling off her boot and tossing it to the floor before doing the same for its mate. 

“Up.” He ordered, taking hold of her hands and pulling her to her feet before she’d even had a chance to do it on her own. 

She stood on the mattress in front of him, feeling slightly foolish. “And now what?” She asked. 

He hooked one finger into the waistband of her trousers, and pulled her towards him and when she was in front of him, reaching for the laces of her trousers, untying them with impressive speed, and tugging them down over her hips when he was done. 

He grasped hold of her ankle, lifting her up so she could step out of them and she couldn’t help laughing even as she clutched at his shoulder to keep from losing her balance. 

“I’m beginning to feel a bit like a doll in the hands of a very impatient toddler.” She commented as she stepped out of the second leg on her own and he pulled the trousers free, throwing them to the ground behind him without even looking where they landed this time. Usually he at least made sure they were draped over a chair or something. Could it be that impressive control was beginning to fray a bit? He wasn't moving at all now, was just standing there, staring at her, seemingly entranced. She felt a small thrill of power. Perhaps she was closer to her goal than she’d thought. 

Sebastian couldn’t seem to take his eyes from her. Her smalls matched the camisole: the same sheer cotton lawn and small embroidered flowers, the same pristine white satin ribbons as the camisole, fastened in demure bows at the sides that almost begged to be untied, and the sheer fabric did almost nothing to hide the fiery curls between her thighs. An appreciative smile curved his mouth at the sight. “My apologies.” He murmured at last, reaching out and trailing his fingers over the gentle curve of her hip, and toying with the bow. “The sight of you like this makes it difficult to go slowly.” 

She ran her hand through his thick auburn hair. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” She told him.

His eyes were still fixed on her scantily clad form. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He murmured and pressed his mouth to the skin just above her smalls. 

“That can’t possibly be true.” He’d been with so many others, more sophisticated, more experienced: noblewomen who’d been trained from birth to be elegant and refined, and others,trained in the art of lovemaking, trained to entice, and to tempt. She couldn’t possibly compete. She believed he loved her, and knew he found her attractive, but the most beautiful? 

Sebastian’s breath was hot against her skin, and she closed her eye as he trailed his hands over her, stroking lightly, from her waist, over her behind, to her thighs, lingering a bit longer there before letting his hands trail down her legs, to the back of her knees all the way own to her calves. 

When he spoke again his voice was rougher than before. “The most beautiful.” He repeated so fiercely that she couldn’t doubt he believed it any longer. His hands moved back to her hips, his grip tightening on them possessively.

 _And his, at last, in every way_. When he raised his eyes to her face, she had tilted her head to one side, looking at him with a teasing half smile. 

“You know,” She said, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I couldn’t help noticing that one of us is wearing rather fewer clothes than the other. Were you in a similar state of undress I might be able to return the compliment.” 

“So I’m only beautiful when I’m unclothed?” He asked with an arch of his eyebrow.

She pretended to give it some thought. “Let’s say perhaps that you’re at your most beautiful you’re unclothed." She pulled free of his embrace and backed slowly away from him until she’d reached the head of the bed. Not taking her eyes from him, she lowered herself to the mattress and leaned back against the pillows that were piled there, keeping herself propped up on her elbows, and stretching her slender legs out in front of her. “And who knows? There might be other advantages if you were.” She looked at him expectantly.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? And what might those be, Mistress Vael?”

The corner of her mouth curved into a challenge of a smile. “Strip and I’ll show you.” 

The brazenness of the demand made him laugh out loud. “So that’s how it is? I thought it was only after years of marriage that wives became so demanding. ” 

“I was under the impression you rather liked my demands. Particularly those I make when we’re both … under-dressed.” 

“You think so, do you?”

She gave a small shrug, though the smile remained. “It’s just an impression. There’s only one way to be completely sure, of course, and it seems that might be more of a challenge than you’re able to handle.” Her hand went to the neck of her camisole and as he watched she slowly pulled the end of the white satin ribbon until the bow was undone. It fell open, revealing a bit more of that shadow between her breasts

“And the details of this challenge?” He asked, his eyes fixed on the fingers she was trailing lightly against the skin she’d just exposed. 

“Strip.” she repeated. “And get me to make demands of you – if you’re up to the task of course.”

His hands were already reaching for the buttons of his jacket. “And then.”

“We'll see if you like it, of course.”

“That seems eminently reasonable.” He agreed. Not taking his eyes from hers he slowly undid his jacket and removed it, tossing it on the nearest chair. He reached up and pulled the laces of his shirt open and swiftly tugged it off over his head.

Just the sight of that chest and shoulders... was there anything quite as perfect as a bare chested archer? “Beautiful.” She breathed the word out, echoing his earlier comment.

“Even only partially undressed?” He asked, feigning surprise.

It was her turn to laugh. “Good point. You’d better keep going.” 

Smiling, he did as she asked, pulling off his boots and then unfastening his trousers, watching her the whole time. Her cheeks were flushed and her breath was coming faster. He could see her breasts rise and fall as she watched him. He pushed them down and stepped out of them, and looked up at her.

She’d pushed herself upright as she’d watched and was leaning forwards now, staring at him – at his smalls actually, or to be entirely accurate, at the erection that was pressing rather insistently against his smalls. 

“You seem a bit distracted, Mistress Vael.” He commented. “Is there something that’s caught your attention?” 

She looked almost guilty as she raised her eyes to his face, and found him smiling knowingly at her.

And apparently still in control, even as aroused as he undeniably was. It really wasn’t fair. With deliberate slowness she settled herself back against the cushions again, and made a small gesture with her hand, as if to say ‘go on’.

And he did, pushing his smalls down and off. He straightened up and stood there making no move to come any closer.

She could only stare at him, trying to remember exactly how to breathe again, taking in every inch of him and wondering if it were even possible for him to be any more perfect, or if the Maker had simply thrown in the towel that day, knowing he’d created something that simply couldn’t be surpassed. 

Her eyes went over the broad chest, the perfectly defined shoulders and abdomen, and then travelled further down. A noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper escaped her lips: he was fully erect, thick and hard, and that part of him was as perfect as the rest. 

More perfect, even. 

Perfect and hers, entirely hers. _At last._

She raised her eyes to his face and the bluest eyes she’d ever encountered were fixed on hers, almost glowing in the curtained room. “I want you.” She whispered, her voice tight with need. 

He would never tire of hearing her say that. He climbed onto the bed and prowled towards her on his hands and knees. “You’re certain you’re not too tired?” 

“I seem to have gotten a second wind.” She told him breathlessly, sliding down as he climbed over her, so she was lying flat on the bed. 

He stopped, resting his weight on his arms, holding himself above her, close enough that they felt the heat of each other’s skin, but not actually touching any part of her. 

“How fortuitous.” He said. It came out as almost a growl. He stayed where he was, and it took all her willpower to keep from reaching out and pulling him down on top of her.

For a moment they just stared at each other, inches apart, both breathing hard. 

It was an almost perfect moment of anticipation, of waiting, of holding back so that the moment that they finally did touch would be all the sweeter.

Anabel could see the pulse thundering at the side of his throat. She wanted to lean up and run her tongue over it, wanted to sink her teeth into that tan skin, tasting him, winding herself around him, rubbing herself against him, teasing him until he pushed her back against the mattress and pushed slowly inside her. Just the thought of it sent a rush of warmth between her legs.

Sebastian watched as she ran her tongue over her lips, and he had to fight for the control to prolong the moment, to struggle to keep himself still, staring into his wife’s eyes, knowing they were both thinking of it, thinking of that moment when their bodies would touch, when he would slip between her thighs and enter her, and feel that hot slick wetness gripping him, absolutely nothing between them, thrusting slowly in and out until he spilled himself inside...

His whole body went rigid. “Maker’s Tits!” He snapped out, and all but leapt off of her, rolling to lie on his back beside her, flinging one arm over his eyes, and clenching his jaw, trying to regain control, leaving Anabel lying there, wondering what had just happened. 

She could count on one hand the number of times she’d heard Sebastian swear, and she’d never heard him take the Maker’s name in vain before. She shifted to her side, propping herself up on one elbow, “Sebastian? What is it?” She reached out and put one hand on his stomach and he actually flinched.

"Don't touch me! Just for a moment." He took several deep breaths and when the throbbing ache had subsided a bit lifted the arm covering his eyes and turned to look at her. “We almost forgot. Again.”

She gave him a blank look.

“We obtained your tea, but we failed to pick up any other more immediate form of protection.” He explained. 

He watched as she realized what he was saying. For a moment she looked utterly crestfallen. “Oh.” 

He’d never heard the word laden with such complete and utter disappointment. “It’s my fault. I didn’t even consider it. I’m sorry, Anabel.” When he looked at her again her face was twisted oddly and it took him a moment to realize she was trying not to laugh and to his surprise he felt his own lips begin to twitch. 

That was all it took for her to start laughing in earnest and he joined in, pulling her into his arms. 

When they’d stopped they lay there with her head resting on his chest. 

"We've no hope of postponing children if we keep on like this." She commented. She wondered what ‘other forms of protection’ might entail and quickly gave up trying to guess. She was too embarrassed by her own ignorance to ask Sebastian for the details. There should be books on the subject. She decided. Or mandatory classes when you were young. Of course if there were they’d probably be taught by the Chantry and so they’d be next to useless, she thought. 

Sebastian was still lying there staring up at the canopy over the bed, his fingers tracing lightly along her upper arm. 

She propped herself up, resting her chin on his chest. “You did mention something before about other ways of pleasuring me earlier? “ She suggested.

She looked so hopeful that he couldn’t help teasing her. "Pleasuring you? Is that the sort of lover you’re going to turn out to be then? You’ll just lie there like all the beautiful ones and have me do all the work?” 

Her dimple appeared at the corner of her mouth. “It doesn’t sound like a very equitable arrangement when you put it that way.” She smiled suddenly. “Perhaps we need to try something different.”

Before he could ask what she meant, she’d straddled his hips slipping her fingers through his and pressing his hands back and down onto the mattress and leaning over him.

He couldn’t help noticing the way the camisole she wore gaped and the clear view it gave him. “What did you have in mind?”

“I haven’t ever just pleased you, have I?” She asked. 

“You always please me.” He told her. “Surely you know that.”

“You know what I mean. You’re always the one who takes charge of things. You always put me first.” 

He tilted his head to the side. “Is that such a very bad thing?” 

“No…but I’d like to put you first this time.” She grinned suddenly. “This time you can just lie there, like all the beautiful ones, and let me have my way with you.”

He felt himself begin to grow hard. “You have something specific in mind then?” He asked.

“Oh, a few things. I’m sure others will come to me. I’ve been told I’ve a gift for spur of the moment improvisation, and of course I’m always open to any requests you might have.” 

The thought made him actually throb with desire and seated the way she was she felt it. She looked over her shoulder and then back at him with a mischievous smile. “It seems as if that ieda appeals to you.” 

“I think that’s fairly obvious.”

She leaned closer, close enough that that her breasts brushed against his chest and her mouth was just inches from his. “So what would you like me to do?” She asked huskily. 

He smiled against her lips. “Strip.” He whispered. “And I’ll show you.” 

 

They pleased each other as it turned out, and Anabel succeeded in her goal of getting Sebastian to make some rather interesting noises as well. She fell asleep almost as soon as they’d finished. Sebastian managed to summon the energy to fetch some water and a cloth from the bathing chamber and clean them both up before falling into bed beside her and pulling the sheet partway over them.

 

He was woken by Anabel letting out a small irritated moan as she turned towards him burrowing into his chest. Only half awake he slung an arm over her, and his hand came to rest on a fabric covered mound of soft flesh. He smoothed an appreciative hand over it before a warning began to sound in the back of his brain: as nicely shaped as this behind was it was far too generous a mound to belong to Anabel. His eyes flew open to find Isabela spooned up behind Anabel and giving him a knowing leer. “And good morning to you too, your Highness.”

He jerked back his hand as if he’d been burned, groping for the sheet and attempting to pull it up enough for modesty’s sake. “Bride of the Maker, Isabela!” The sheet was hopelessly tangled around them both and all his tugging at it did was wake Anabel enough for her to make an unhappy, disgruntled sound.

The pirate just grinned at him and stroked Anabel’s tangled red curls. “What?” She asked with innocent eyes when he continued to glare at her.

 _What?_ “You know exactly what, Isabela. My wife and I happen to be in the privacy of our bedroom and quite unclothed.” He pointed out. 

She just leered. “And don’t you look nice.”

“Isabela.” He warned through gritted teeth. 

Anabel stirred in his arms and with a confused frown, turned and looked behind her. “Oh, Izzy…” She groaned.

“Well, it’s hardly my fault the two of you are so beautiful together.” Isabela protested. “How could you expect me to resist climbing in here with you?” 

Sebastian let out a very un-chantry like curse, the second he’d uttered that day, and kicking his legs free of the sheets, he stalked naked to the bathroom and while he didn’t quite slam the door behind him he did close it rather firmly.

Anabel turned around, and gave Isabela a reproachful look, which she paid not the slightest attention to. 

“Was that a tattoo on Sebastian’s ass?” She asked curiously.

Anabel ignored the question, pulling the sheet up around her. “Was there a reason you needed to see us so urgently that you had to invade our bed, or were you just bored?”

“Oh, kitten, invading your bed is never boring.” Isabela twined a long red curl idly around her finger. But the statement lacked the usual teasing tone.

“Is everything all right?” Anabel asked in a gentler voice.

“No.” Isabela rolled abruptly off the bed and began pacing around the room. “Castillon’s back in town.”

Anabel sat up, completely awake now, tucking the sheet up under her armpits and sitting cross legged. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure!” Isabela snapped. And I’m not going to sit around waiting for him to stick a knife in my vitals.”

“Of course we aren’t.” Anabel assured her. “Do you know where he is?” 

Isabela kept pacing but gave a small shrug. “Holed up somewhere in Kirkwall. I haven’t been able to find out where. I do know where Velasco is though.”

“Who’s Velasco?” Anabel asked.

“Castillon’s right hand.” The pirate plopped back down on the bed, one leg tucked beneath her. “So all we have to do is find Velasco and make him tell us where Castillon is. Somehow.” 

Anabel arched an eyebrow. “Of course.” She agreed. After a moment she added. “So what you’re saying is you don’t actually have a plan?” 

Isabela scowled at her. “I have something of a plan.” She insisted. “Step one: we go to Velasco. Step two… something exciting happens. Step three: profit!” 

Anabel gave her a dubious look.

“What? Do you have a better plan?” 

The door to the bathing chamber opened and Sebastian walked back in wearing his robe, and carrying one of Anabel’s made of rich red silk and embroidered with delicate flowers. Deliberately placing himself so that he blocked the pirates view of his wife he held it up for her while she slipped her arms through and he pulled it closed and tied the belt. After giving her a quick kiss on the forehead, Sebastian sat back down on the bed, leaning back against the head board.

Anabel scooted up so she could lean against him. “I don’t suppose we could just ask Velasco nicely?” She asked. “Or bribe him?”

Isabela shook her head. “Velasco’s not going to reveal anything willingly and I can’t risk him getting suspicious and alerting Castillon.” 

“Who’s Castillon?” Sebastian asked and Anabel quickly told him the story: how Isabela had freed the slaves she was supposed to transport for Castillon. How to make up for it he had her steal the Tome of Koslun, and now that the Tome had been returned to Par Vollen how Castillon was out for blood.

Sebastian was silent when Anabel had finished. He’d long suspected Isabela was far more altruistic than she let on, though she refused to ever admit it, and blamed any aberrant behavior on Anabel. A lie of course, since she’d freed the slaves before she and Anabel had even met. “But it’s simple.” He said after a moment. “Castillon wants you. Why not let Velasco bring you to him?” 

Isabela gave him a withering look. “Thank you for the advice but that’s actually exactly what I’m trying to avoid. Are you that annoyed that I saw you naked?”

Anabel had sat up straight. “No, he’s right. That’s brilliant!” She turned excitedly to Isabela. “Don’t you see? We bring you to Velasco, he takes you to Castillon…”

Understanding dawned on Isabela’s face. “And you follow me…” Isabela gave Sebastian an admiring look. “Ooh, that is clever. I was going to suggest challenging Velasco to a riddle game and making ‘where’s your boss?’ one of the riddles. This is so much better.” She pursed her lips, looking thoughtful “You’ll need to be convincing when you take me to him. Call me names; you might need to rough me up a bit.” She told Anabel.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that.” Anabel told her. 

“Oh, come on.” Isabela coaxed climbing back up on the bed and crawling towards them. “Haven’t you ever wanted to slap me? Just a little?” 

Sebastian gave a small snort. “Is that a trick question?” 

Isabela flopped back so her head was lying in Anabel’s lap and smirked up at him. “I wasn’t talking to you. Nice tattoo by the way.” She picked up Anabel’s hand and wound their fingers together.

Sebastian’s nostrils flared with irritation and he gave Anabel a beseeching look, but she just smiled at him, flashing her dimple. 

“She’s right. It is a very nice tattoo.” 

“Incorrigible.” He told her and leaning down kissed her gently on the lips.

“I’m incorrigible too.” Isabela told him eagerly.

“Yes, I’m well aware of that.” Sebastian said, ignoring the hint. 

Anabel spoke before Isabela could respond. “We can’t do it tonight of course, and if I don’t get one night’s good sleep soon I won’t be of any use to anyone. Day after tomorrow?” She suggested. 

Isabela sat up, a relieved smile on her face. “Yes. Then I can finally be done with this.”

“Good. Now go away and let us get dressed.”

Isabela gave her a careless kiss on the cheek, and with one last smirk at Sebastian she left. 

When the door had closed behind her Anabel tilted her head back and smiled up at her husband. “Thank you.” 

“For what?” He asked, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand.

“For putting up with my mad friends and their escapades.” 

“As much as Isabela would have us think otherwise she’s a good woman. Perhaps this will put the whole affair to rest once and for all. ” 

“Maker I hope so.” Her face softened as she looked at him. “I enjoyed myself earlier.” She told him with a smile. 

His eyes were warm as he looked at her. “As did I.” He told her. “You showed impressive creativity.” 

She laughed that rich throaty laugh that had seemed so at odds with her appearance when he’d first met her; after spending almost a week in bed with her it seemed much more in character. 

“I can’t take all the credit. I spent a great deal of my early twenties reading impressively unwholesome novels that Isabela provided me with. I think a few may have been banned by the Chantry.“

He gave a small snort. “If Isabela provided you with them I don’t doubt that for a minute.” 

“I don’t suppose you ever read _Hessarian’s Spear_ , did you?” She asked innocently.

He groaned and covered his hands with his face. “Sweet Andraste. No, I have not.” He said firmly. “And you shouldn’t have either.” 

“No?” She asked her eyes dancing merrily. She turned so she was facing him and slid one hand under his robe and trailing it up his muscled thigh. “But if I hadn’t, then I would never have known touch you just here…”

Sebastian jumped. “Stop that.” He told her firmly. 

She ignored him, turning and sliding her other hand up after the first. “Or to put pressure just here….” 

He grabbed both her hands and flipped her over on her back, as she shrieked with laughter.

“Incorrigible.” He told her again, bending and kissing the tip of her nose. 

“So you said earlier.”

“You didn’t truly learn that from _Hessarian’s Spear_ did you?” He asked. 

She gave him an unrepentant grin and he groaned again. 

“Sweet Andraste.” He repeated. He knew of the book, of course. It had been denounced by the Chantry, and several cautionary sermons had been written about it. He’d never read it, had never even seen a copy. “Deriving sexual pleasure and gratification from my wife’s careful and obsessive reading of a blasphemous novel that’s been banned throughout Thedas. That’s an entirely new category of sin to confess.” 

“In the future I could just lie there while you have your way with me. Just lie there thinking pious thoughts the way a proper and virtuous Andrastean wife should.” Anabel suggested innocently. 

“I doubt that, somehow.” Her robe had come undone and he pressed his mouth to the space between her breasts. Unable to stop himself he pushed the robe further open and traced her nipple with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth.

His hand was still around her wrist and when she tried to raise it to stroke his hair he tightened his hold, and bit gently at her nipple as she arched against him. 

“So that’s a ‘no’ to just lying there then?” 

He raised his head. “A definite ‘no’. And I’ll remind you of this moment when we’re both languishing in the Void for all eternity.” _Hessarian’s Spear_. 

Maker help him.

She seemed entirely unconcerned by the warning. “Well if the Chantry’s teachings are right, that’s where most of our friends will be, so at least we’ll have company.” 

He straightened up, releasing her. “Speaking of company, we’d best get up and dressed before Isabela returns and brings the others with her this time." Most of his clothes were in his old room still, and after retrieving his leathers and boots from the floor, he went there to change.

Anabel climbed out of the bed and walked over to the wardrobe that held her leathers. She opened the door and looked through them, trying to decide which set to wear. The midnight blue set she’d had on earlier was in no fit state to be worn, even on a trip to the Undercity. She wanted to make a statement, to remind these morons who were listening to Jevan of what she’d done for the city, and of the place she held in it. She wavered back and forth between several sets and had finally decided on the glossy black armor she’d worn at Saemus’ funeral, when the Viscount had let everyone know he wanted her to be his heir. She’d run screaming from that opportunity and she wondered, not for the first time where Kirkwall would be today if she hadn’t, when another set caught her eye, a set she hadn’t worn before. She stared at it for a moment, wondering.

 _Yes._ She decided. _Now’s the right time. This is the right occasion._

Sebastian knocked on the door about a quarter of an hour later, and opened it a few inches. “May I come in?” He asked.

“Of course.” Anabel told him. “You don’t have to ask anymore, you know.” 

He’d built a mental barrier at her bedroom door that it was going to take some getting used to. He walked in, about to say the same aloud but stopped in his tracks when he saw her...

She gave him a serene smile, fastening a buckle at her upper arm. “Give me a hand with it?” She asked. 

“Of course.” He said automatically, and crossed the room to her side, trying to match her nonchalance.

She was wearing the Champion Armor. 

The merchants of Kirkwall had given it to her as a token of their thanks for stopping the Qunari invasion. She’d still been recovering when it had arrived and aside from making a remark that with all those straps and spikes it looked like something one would wear while participating in the Madame Lucine Special at the Blooming Rose she hadn’t spoken of it. As far as Sebastian knew she’d never even tried it on. 

She’d gotten the greaves on by herself, and he helped her with the pauldrons. She rotated her shoulders carefully when he’d finished. 

“It’s more metal than you’re used to.” He commented.

“Yes, but less than I’d originally thought. The range of movement is better as well though I’m still not certain about the pauldrons.” She swung her arm, giving it a full range of motion, with a small frown on her face.

“Will you be able to fight?” 

“I think so. It’s actually not as heavy as I thought it would be.” She glanced up at him. “How does it look?” 

“Rather dashing, actually.” The red velvet and black leather and metal were striking – together and in contrast to her pale skin and her bright hair, which she’d pulled back into a sleek bun at the back of her head. “In a deadly sort of way.” He added. 

She laughed as she pulled on one of the gauntlets. “That’s more than I’d hoped. “ She shook her head at the claw like metal overlay on the fingers as she buckled it. “I think they took the name Hawke a bit too literally. I thought it was all spikes like Fenris’ armor but I think they may have intended it to be feathers.” 

“I think you may be right.” Sebastian commented. “A tribute your Fereldan heritage.” 

“Or a reminder of it.” She said dryly, pulling on the other. She fumbled with its buckles until Sebastian reached down and did it for her. 

He took a step back and nodded. “Yes. It makes quite an impression.”

She looked pleased. “That’s what I was hoping for. I want to remind Jevan he’s the one who slinked away and left Kirkwall while this foreigner stayed and kept it safe. Will it work for that, do you think?”

Sebastian crossed to her side and raised both her hands to his lips. He’d forgotten about the ‘claws’ and they both laughed as he turned her hands over and kissed the palms instead. “Definitely.” He told her. 

 

They went downstairs and found Fenris waiting with Isabela. Fenris’ eyes widened imperceptibly at the armor but he gave an approving nod and Anabel knew he understood the reason she was wearing it tonight. 

“That’s new, isn’t it?” Asked Isabela idly. “You should consider wearing it without all that red velvet underneath. Not out in public of course, but I think you’d be pleased with the reaction you might get if you wore it in the privacy of your bedroom.”

“The privacy of my bedroom has been a bit debatable lately. I’ll stick to lingerie I think.” Anabel commented, looking around for Varric.

“Varric will be here shortly.” Fenris informed her. “He was detained as we came through the Marketplace. Someone from the Merchant’s Guild I believe.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than there was a pounding on the door. Bodahn appeared out of nowhere to answer it, and Varric was calling out before he was even in the room.

“Hawke! You might want to get out here.” He stopped short when he saw her in the armor, and a smile spread across his face. “Why, Champion. I didn’t expect to run into you here.” 

“Very funny.” Anabel commented. “Why is it I want to get out there?” She was already reaching for her weapons. 

“Apparently Orsino’s decided now’s the perfect time to give a speech on the oppression of mages.”

“What, in front of the Keep?” Anabel asked in alarm. 

“Oh he’s been out there for ages. He was there when we got here.” Isabela contributed helpfully.

“And you didn’t think to mention that?” Asked Sebastian. 

Isabela seemed puzzled by the question. 

“He’s got a good sized audience.” Varric informed them. “But it’s about to get bigger, Champion. Meredith’s on her way.” Varric informed them. "I saw her in the Market."

With a muttered expletive, Anabel brushed by him, pulling open the door.

 

Orsino was on the platform at the bottom of the steps of the Keep, his voice ringing out. As Varric had said there was a good sized crowd composed mostly of Hightown residents. 

_Why now?_ Anabel wondered. _Why the Keep?_ She moved forward, but stayed at the edge of the crowd, wanting to hear what the First Enchanter was saying and gauge the crowds’ reaction. Her companions stayed close behind her. 

“I know you fear us.” Orsino said loudly. His voice carried well, and she wondered where he’d learned to do that. “Knight Commander Meredith uses that fear to take control of your city! She opposes every effort to replace Viscount Dumar and you have seen the chaos of her reign! Will you allow it?”

There was grumbling from the crowd. Many were shaking their heads, agreeing with him. A few called out, “No.” More than Anabel would have thought in a crowd of Hightown nobles.

“What is he thinking?” Sebastian muttered. 

“Return to your homes. This farce is over.” Meredith was suddenly there, flanked by two templars, and the crowd parted before her as she crossed the plaza to where Orsino stood.

Anabel hadn’t seen her in months, indeed as far as she knew, few had. In her massive templar plate she was as impressive a figure as ever. She immediately brought up that wall as Anders had taught her, that wall that let her block her abilities, indeed brought it up so strongly that she couldn't even sense Orsino's magic any more. It was a disconcerting feeling, not unlike when you got water in your ear after a bath. It left her feeling shut off somehow.

The crowd had fallen back a bit, and Orsino seemed to realize that with Meredith’s appearance he was losing them, and looked around and spotted Hawke and her companions and his face lit up. 

“Wait!” He called out excitedly. “Perhaps there are some who might disagree with you, Knight Commander!” He gave Anabel an encouraging look.

 _Encouraging her to do what?_ She wondered, suddenly irritated with him. _To blindly throw her lot in with the mages without knowing what had precipitated this whole thing and despite the fact that more blood mages were running around the city than ever? To condemn Meredith and the Templars without any other power structure in place for the city to fall back on? Would that make the nobles fear the mages any less? What was he thinking_ , she wondered again.

Keeping her face carefully neutral she walked slowly towards them, hearing renewed whispers from the crowd.

_It’s the Champion. Thank the Maker. She’ll sort them out._

Before she could say anything Meredith spoke. “Do not hide behind the Champion. She has no role in this.” She didn’t even bother to sound angry. Simply dismissive.

Anabel’s temper flared. Meredith had come to expect her to take no role in the politics of Kirkwall. _Not any more, Meredith_. “I don’t need anyone speaking for me Knight Commander.”

Meredith turned and looked at her and for the first time seemed to notice the armor she wore. Those icy eyes narrowed. “Is that so?” 

“I think the Champion’s views would be appreciated, or do you fear what she might say?” Orsino didn’t bother to keep the triumph from his voice.

Meredith’s eyes flashed. “I fear nothing. My only interest here is in keeping order and protecting the innocent.” 

Strangely, Anabel didn’t doubt that. The problem was that for Meredith ‘keeping order’ meant grinding those she deemed trouble makers beneath her heel. And mages, no matter how good or how young would never be innocent in her eyes. She turned to Orsino.

“What are you trying to do, Orsino.” She asked quietly. “Start a rebellion right here in Hightown? You say you don’t want them to fear mages, but you’re frightening them now.”

“The people of this city need to know what is really happening.” Orsino insisted. 

Before Anabel could respond, before she could ask if something specific had happened that had spurred him on to this action Meredith interrupted.

“And then what? They tear down the Gallows which pitchforks and torches? That would be better?”

“It cannot be worse.” Orsino exclaimed. The crowd around them was stirring uneasily. “Your refusal to listen to reason leaves me no choice!” 

“What I refuse to listen to are excuses!” Meredith retorted. “Perhaps you are ill fitted for your position if you cannot understand this.” Her mouth curved into a small smile that left Anabel wondering if that had been her intention all along. She doubted Orsino could have left the Gallows if Meredith had forbidden it. Had she been setting a trap for him? Hoping he’d lose his temper in front of witnesses who weren’t templars or mages?

Before Orsino could respond to Meredith’s taunt she stepped between them. “Threatening each other isn’t going to help matters.” She told them both.

Another flash of anger in Meredith’s eyes. “And what should I do instead?” Meredith snapped. “Should I allow this to continue?”

“The templar order exists to guard the Chantry and the Circle. I suggest you let the nobility rule the city.” Orsino looked pointedly at Hawke.

Meredith glared at him. “I do not need you to tell me what my duty is, mage.”

“Your measures have become more extreme since the Viscount’s death, Knight Commander: curfews, raids of people’s homes, you've made sheltering apostates a hanging offense. Basic freedoms have been restricted, and not just for mages.“ Again she heard the crowd murmur their approval behind her.

And Meredith heard it to. When she spoke again her voice was pitched louder. “And you could do better? How well did you guard your own mother? Did she not die at the hands of a blood mage?” 

Anabel flinched. _Foolish,_ she thought. _Foolish not to be prepared for such an accusation._

She saw a glint of satisfaction in Meredith’s eyes as she saw her words strike home, but strangely, when she spoke she sounded almost sympathetic. “Cold corpses speak louder than abstract freedoms, do they not? As long as that is true, Kirkwall needs its templars more than it needs a new ruler.” 

Anabel stared at her, trying to decide if the Knight Commander truly believed that, or if she was just trying to hold on to the power she’d taken. _How well did you guard your own mother?_ In spite of her best efforts to dismiss the question it kept repeating. Would her mother have been killed if Meredith’s harsher measures had been in place? Could the templars have caught Quentin, succeeded where she and Aveline had failed? To her surprise she found herself wavering, caught in the brutal force of Meredith’s accusation. No. Condemning all mages for the actions of a few was not the answer. Meredith took it too far. She opened her mouth to say just that, but Orsino spoke first.

“And when will that end?” He demanded. “When will you stop seeing evil in every corner?” Orsino asked.

“When it’s no longer there.” Meredith snapped back.

“There are rogue mages who constantly threaten the city, Orsino. I’ve fought them myself.” Before she could finish the statement and add _but they aren’t the only threat to Kirkwall’s stability_ , Meredith had leaped on her statement.

“Exactly. Would you have us do nothing in response?”

“I would have you not paint us all with the same brush! Not all mages are waiting for the opportunity to wreak havoc.” It would have been a plea, had Orsino not been shouting.

“You know as well as I that temptation weighs on every mage, no matter how noble their intentions.” 

Orsino threw his hands up. “You push us into desperate acts and then use that as justification to press even farther.” 

Anabel looked at the crowd. You could see the growing fear on their faces, and no wonder, with the phrases that were being thrown around by two of the leaders of the city. 

_Evil in every corner._

_Desperate acts._

_While the city burns around us._

_Havoc._

_Chaos._

They all wanted her to pick a side: Meredith, Orsino, Anders. They seemed to think that it was either mages or templars, that you were on one side or the other. They conveniently forgot that there were tens of thousands in Kirkwall who were neither, and since the Viscount's death there had been no one looking out for them. 

They wanted her to pick a side, and she would. She would do what was right for the people of Kirkwall. That was her choice.

She stepped between the Knight Commander and the First Enchanter. “This argument isn’t helping matters.” 

“No.” Snapped Meredith. “It isn’t. Stand aside if you will not see what is right here.”

Anabel smiled, a smile her companions knew well, the one you saw just before she attacked. The one that didn’t reach her eyes. “The First Enchanter accused you of trying to take control of the city.” Anabel said carefully. “Are you?” 

“The city.” Meredith’s voice was filled with scorn. “I am trying to keep order until there is a ruler capable of succeeding where Dumar failed.” 

“And if you don’t find one? “ Orsino asked. “Will the templars rule Kirkwall forever?"

There was some more rumbling from the crowd. More than Anabel had expected. They didn’t liked that idea, not at all. Perhaps the city was as fed up with Meredith as the rest of them. It gave her the courage to say the words. Like Meredith had before, she pitched her voice louder.

“I will step in if Kirkwall asks it." She caught Sebastian’s eye, saw the pride and approval in his eyes and smiled. _I certainly couldn’t do any worse._ She thought.

She saw Meredith flounder, trying to come up with an argument against it. “That is not going to happen.” She sputtered. She offered no reason for it.

From the sudden buzz of conversation those assembled had noticed that, noticed it, and didn’t like it.

Orsino leapt on the remark. “Do you see? She is incapable of reason.” 

The same accusations thrown over and over again by both of them. “Maybe you two should wrestle because apparently there’s no other way to resolve this.” She said, rolling her eyes.

“You are naïve Champion.” Meredith said with a scowl.

Orsino seemed to take her retort as tacit approval. “You will find that not everyone bows to your will Knight Commander.” He sounded as if he were gloating. 

Before she or Meredith could reply, the crowd parted again, on the side leading to the Chantry, revealing the Grand Cleric walking towards them, her pace and manner almost leisurely, as if there were nothing to worry about. As she passed through the crowd you could see the tension recede.

She was by herself, no templars, not even another sister beside her and when she spoke her voice was as serene as ever. “My, my. Such a terrible commotion.” She sounded as if she were chiding misbehaving children, and indeed that was how both Meredith and Orsino reacted.

Meredith seemed suddenly less certain. “This mage incites rebellion your grace. I am dealing with the matter.”

Elthina’s gaze went to the First Enchanter. “Ah, Orsino. So frustrated. Do you think this is truly wise?” She chided gently.

“I… “ He floundered for a moment and looked away. “No, your grace.”

“Of course not.” She smiled at the templars who had accompanied Meredith. “Young men, would you show the first enchanter back to the Circle? Gently, if you please.”

That Orsino would escape any punishment was too much for Meredith to stand. “Your Grace, he should be clapped in irons, made an example of...” 

Elthina cut her off sharply. “That’s enough, Meredith. This demeans us all, surely you can see that.” 

It was only the second time Anabel had heard Elthina snap at someone. Mother Petrice, and now Meredith. Looking at Meredith’s face she could see she wasn’t the only one surprised by it, but the Grand Cleric didn’t waver, even under the Knight Commander’s icy stare. Indeed her own grey eyes seemed to harden. “Go back to the Gallows and calm down, like a good girl.” 

Anabel’s eyes widened and she had to clamp her lips together to keep from smiling. The Knight Commander had been told, in effect, to go to her room, and to be ‘a good girl’.

She wished Anders could have seen it.

For a moment Meredith looked as if she wasn’t going to obey the command and then she turned abruptly and left without another word. 

Relief went through the crowd like a wave. 

Elthina turned to Hawke. “You have my thanks for stepping in Champion. If you had not…” She let her voice trail off. 

_But I didn’t do anything._ Anabel thought to herself. She’d tried to stay neutral to keep things from erupting right here and now in the middle of a Hightown crowd. She’d tried to placate them both to keep the people assembled from harm. Nothing had been solved, it had merely been postponed. And then she realized.

She’d done exactly what Elthina had been doing for the last few years. For the first time she understood the Grand Cleric’s actions where the templars and mages were concerned. 

When she looked up the Grand Cleric was watching her and a look of perfect understanding passed between them. 

“Short of putting those two in cells I doubt anything will keep them from each other.” Anabel warned her.

Elthina sighed. “Sadly true.” She agreed. She turned to the crowd. “Gentle people of Kirkwall return to your homes, I implore you. This will not be solved today.“

Most began to drift away and the Grand Cleric turned back to Hawke. “And now I must attend to the Gallows. They will see reason if the Maker wills it.”

 _But they won’t._ Anabel thought to herself. _You yourself admitted that just now._

In theory the Chantry controlled the templars and the Circles. Elthina, might be able to break up the arguments between mage and templar but someehow she'd lost the power to control them. 

That power had to come from outside now. Hopefully from a new Viscount. Hopefully from her. Could she do it? 

Yes. With Elthina's support, and Aveline's as Guard Captain. Varric could help ensure the Merchant's Guild continued to do business here. If she could get the nobles on her side... yes. She could.

She found Elthina was smiling at her. “Thank you again for your aid, Champion.” She said, and turned away, walking towards the stairs to the Market.

Sebastian came up to stand beside her. “She shouldn’t go unescorted. “ He said looking after the Grand Cleric.

Anabel turned towards the Keep, trying to see if she recognized any of the templars on duty despite the fact they all wore their helmets. One of them had been staring at her and quickly looked away, only to look up again at her a second later and then look down again just as quickly. 

It had to be Paxley. She hadn’t given any other templar that much reason to be embarrassed just by looking at her. “Why don’t you take Paxley to her?" She suggested, gesturing to him. "He can escort her the rest of the way. If he makes a fuss about leaving his post tell him it’s at the Champion’s request. “ Who knew if that would have any influence, but it was worth a shot. 

Somewhat to her surprise Paxley accompanied Sebastian without protest, and Anabel watched them leave the square.

And then the strangest thing happened.

She started to walk back to the others and a voice called out. “Maker bless you Champion!” 

She turned to see who had said it and someone else called out from a different direction. “I wish you were our Viscount, Champion.”

“Thank you for keeping us safe!” Someone took hold of her hand and gave it a shake. 

She was suddenly surrounded by well-wishers.

“This city would be far worse off without you to keep the peace, Champion.” 

“Meredith goes too far, Champion. She grasps at power she has no right to.” 

“Andraste blessed you when she sent you back to Kirkwall, Champion.” 

She smiled and murmured her thanks, remembering her earlier remarks. _What is it I expect them to do? Stand around me singing my praises? Tell me how much they wished I was Viscount?_

 _Amazing._ If she believed in such things she’d think it was a sign. She glanced up at the Keep and found Bran standing there on the steps and she couldn’t help smiling. He didn’t quite smile back, but he gave a small approving nod before turning and going back into the Keep. 

As the crowd slowly dispersed, Varric walked up to her a smirk on his face. “So did you realize the armor was magical before you decided to wear it?” He asked. 

She raised an eyebrow. “What? You don’t think that could have been just my own charm and winning personality?” She felt a bit giddy, she realized. Kirkwall, and least some in Kirkwall, wanted her for Viscount. Just maybe she could do this. Keep Kirkwall safe. Keep the mages safe. Keep the templars from being quite so...templar-y. 

Varric gave a small snort. “I’m not certain even you have enough charm for what just happened here. I’m thinking some kind of magic.” His smile faded. “You got a minute,?” He asked.

She gave him an easy smile. “For you, Varric? Always.” 

He looked around and led her off to the side of the stairs. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this for a while, but it’s harder to get you a lone these days."

Anabel gave Varric a reproving look. “You do know that anything you tell me I’m just going to tell Sebastian anyway.”

Varric gave an awkward shrug. “You might want to hold off on that claim until you hear what I’ve got to say. This is something that the Chantry would have definite questions about. Remember Bartrand’s mansion?”

She gave a small shudder. “Only slightly.”

“I’ve been trying to sell it.” Varric muttered. 

_Good luck with that_. She managed not to say it out loud. “I don’t imagine there’s much of a market for expensive and blood soaked murder mansions.” She commented.

“You’re telling me. I finally fobbed it off on some Rivaini nobleman who bought it sight unseen, but now some…difficulties have arisen.” 

“Difficulties?” Anabel asked warily. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sebastian return, and gave a small shake of her head when he started towards her. 

He frowned, but went over to Fenris instead.

“They say it’s haunted.” Varric said abruptly.

Anabel turned her head to stare at him. “Haunted.” She said flatly.

He raised his hand and scratched at his jaw. “Some minor problems. Voices whispering in the walls. Apparitions. Things moving on their own.” He gave an uneasy laugh. “It’s ridiculous of course.” 

Marvelous. “Of course. Minor problems.” She gave it some thought, watching as Fenris took Sebastian aside and began speaking earnestly with him. It was a night for confidences apparently. “Well,” She said, turning back to Varric. “We have two possibilities. No three, actually.” She corrected. “One, the things Bartrand did to his men were horrible enough that they may have weakened the Veil. Two, I’ve been right all along and there is still a piece of the idol somewhere in that house.” She said with a scowl. She really didn’t want to go back into that house. If there was still of piece of the idol somewhere in there, the farther away she stayed from it the better. Who knew what strange ability she’d manifest if she kept insisting on playing with the stuff?”

“Neither of those is particularly comforting, Hawke.” Varric informed her. “What’s the third option?”

“That it’s both of those things together.”

Varric looked almost as appalled by the idea as she felt. “Well, shit.” 

“I concur.” She chewed on her lower lip. “I normally try and avoid taking this way out, but what if we didn’t do anything and just left well enough alone? This Rivaini nobleman did agree to buy it sight unseen, after all.”

“Unfortunately Free Marches property law isn’t quite that simple. Best case scenario I get dragged up in front of the Seneschal for failing to disclose certain unsavory details about the history of the place.” Varric told her.

She might be able to persuade Bran to go easy on him. “And the worst case?” She asked.

“Would involve Antivan Crows.” 

She’d burned any bridges she might have with the Crows when she’d let Zevran escape and killed Nuncio and his men. “Fuck.” 

“Couldn’t have put it better myself.” Varric agreed.

“What on Thedas makes you think we can fix this?” She asked.

“Personally, I think it’s some weird shit Bartrand brought back from the Deep Roads – something new, not the idol. Maybe if we destroy it the problem will stop.”

Her head was already beginning to ache just thinking about it. She raised her hand and rubbed her temple. “And if simply smashing it to bits doesn’t work?” She asked.

“Hell, I don’t know. You come from a whole family of mages not to mention your own little…” his voice trailed off and he waggled his fingers. “You’ve got experience dealing with weird…shit.” 

She couldn’t help laughing. “True enough.” Varric hadn't been kidding. There were any number of reasons Sebastian wouldn’t like this: demons, ghosts, red lyrium, not to mention getting caught up in Varric’s slightly shady business practices. Unless… did he really need to know? “Sebastian is leaving for Tantervale middle of next week.” She announced. “I’ll go with you then but you have to convince Anders to come along. He was with us before and with us down in the Thaig. I’d ask him but he’s presently not speaking to me.” 

Varric almost sagged with relief. “I think I can persuade Blondie. I owe you one Hawke.” 

“No, you don’t.” She said absently. “I’m pretty sure I still owe you a few times over.” She spared him a quick smile, which he returned, and then walked away from her.

Sebastian had finished his conversation with Fenris and when he saw Varric leave her side,he began making his way to her. His smile made her feel instantly guilty.

Was she really going to keep this from Sebastian? She shouldn’t, not after the mess they’d gotten into the last time they both started hiding things. But what could she possibly say to him about it?

She ran the possible conversation over in her head.

_By the way, Varric wants me to investigate his brother’s mansion, the one he sold fraudulently to a Rivaini nobleman. Seems it’s haunted. Yes, I said haunted. Probably from the atrocities Bartrand committed. Oh, did I never go into specifics about that did I? It’s nothing important. He force fed them lyrium and then cut them into small pieces while under the influence of a corrupted dwarven idol. We think because it was so horrific a slaughter that the Veil is permanently weaker and letting all sorts of things sneak in. But it might not be that all. Personally I think he left of piece of that idol behind. Did I mention it was made of red lyrium? Yes, the same red lyrium that seems to be able to undo the seals my father put on my magic._

_And did I mention Anders would be there too?_

_Shit._ She thought as he reached her side.

He was still smiling at her. “What did Varric need?” 

“Need?” She repeated stupidly. 

“Usually when he pulls you aside like that he’s got some adventure in store for you that he’s quite certain I wouldn’t approve of.” Sebastian reminded her.

“Oh. Yes. Some difficulties with a property he owns. Unwanted tenants.” Technically that wasn’t a lie. She winced inwardly. “I saw you talking to Fenris. Is everything all right?” She asked, changing the subject.

“He’s asked if we could stop by his mansion some time in the next few days. He says he has a favor to ask, but he wouldn’t go into details. I said we would.” He was frowning, certain she’d left something out of her explanation. “Couldn’t Varric simply ask the Guard for assistance?” 

“I don’t think Varric likes the idea of Aveline getting too much information about him. And speaking of Aveline.” She said with relief, spotting the Guard Captain coming do the steps of the Keep. 

_You should tell him._ That little voice warned. _This is not good._

 _I know. Stop nagging me._ She told it as she called out a greeting to Aveline walking towards her with a big smile on her face that accomplished nothing but got her some very suspicious looks from both Aveline and Sebastian.

_You’re making a mistake. You’d think after all you went through keeping things from each other…_

_Shut up. We’ve got work to do: Jevan and his gang of small minded xenophobes, remember?_

Maybe she’d tell him the details after. 

 

Of course Jevan didn’t simply walk away, though a surprising number of his followers did before the fight began, and by the end of it...

Well, Jevan wasn’t going to be an issue anymore.

 

Anabel was actually smiling as she and Sebastian returned home. Exhausted again, or still, she couldn’t quite decide which, but smiling. Overall it had been a pretty good day.

Sebastian came up behind her, slipping her arms around her. “Orana’s going to bring up a tray for us. Would you like me to run you a bath?” He asked bending his head and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“A bath sounds perfect. Can I take back what I said yesterday?” She asked tilting her head back to look at him.

“What was that?”

“About hating my friends. I don’t.”

“Oh that. I never quite believed it anyway.” He smoothed her hair away from her face. “What’s changed your mind?”

“I was just realizing: In the space of a very short time Aveline, Isabela, Varric and even Fenris have asked me for help. And I like it. Not just the helping but the fact that they come to me for help. It makes me feel…” She wavered. Important wasn’t quite the right word. “Needed.” Yes. That was better. “They’re in trouble and they come to me. They believe I can help them and…oh I don’t know what I’m trying to say. We’re family. I just like knowing that they’ll come to me for help, and I like knowing that, most of the time, I can help them. I’m probably being horribly egotistical again, I know.”

“On the contrary, I think it speaks to your generous nature.”

She turned in his arms giving him a brilliant smile as she slipped her arms around his neck. “I think part of the reason I love you is because you always make me sound better than I am.” 

“Impossible.”

“As many problems as Kirkwall has and as imperfect a bunch as we are I love my life here. I love my odd little family.” Her smile faded, thinking of Anders. No. She refused to believe their friendship was at an end. They’d fought before and made up, dozens of times.

_Not over something like this._

_It doesn’t matter. We’ll mend things, It might take a while but we will._

She pushed the worry aside and turned in Sebastian’s arms. “Let’s have that bath, and some food and then to bed.” 

“To bed or to sleep?” He asked with a teasing smile.

She went up on her toes and kissed him lightly. “You know me well enough to know that I choose my words very carefully.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [All That Might Be photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/all+that+might+be)


End file.
